


Falling Apart

by Monochromehobo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale tried to initiate contact while Crowley is little and Crowley freaks out, Bathing/Washing, Crowley only presses on a bruise but I'm tagging just incase, Crying, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Intimacy, Little!Crowley, Mentions of Sex, Mixing of book and show canon, Mixing of book and show characterization, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Wetting, baseline!Aziraphale, little verse, no sex while Crowley is little tho, self hatred, so so much intimacy, wow this one got dark quick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2020-09-19 08:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 23,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20328229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monochromehobo/pseuds/Monochromehobo
Summary: Crowley finds himself falling into old habits after armageddon, despite the new relationship he's formed with Aziraphale. Will he learn how to let Aziraphale in or will he push him away for good this time? Can Aziraphale even get over the fact that their classifications don't match?Or Crowley is a little and is having a hard time adjusting to life after armageddon in a world where littles are harshly discriminated against.





	1. The Start

**Author's Note:**

> I've been feeling majorly inspired by all the littleverse good omens fics. Hope ya'll enjoy. I'm not going to be heavily editing this fic, but I will be updating this often, as I'm just writing it solely for myself pretty much lol.

Crowley let Aziraphale into his apartment, snapping everything into place. This being the first time the angel (position pending) had been to his apartment; he naturally felt a bit awkward. And if he happened to miracle all his little comforts into the ether where they wouldn’t be discovered; well would you blame him? 

The demon fetched a bottle of wine off the shelf, easily falling into the rhythm of their sessions, as though they hadn’t just stopped armageddon and were in immense danger. Not imminently of course; hell moved slow and heaven moved even slower. He figured they’d have a month, perhaps even two before they’d be called to atone for their crimes. 

After getting approximately four bottles of wine into Crowley’s collection, Aziraphale seemed to have an epiphany of sorts; opening and closing his mouth while looking at Crowley, who waited patiently for the Angel to form words. “Body swap!” he finally exclaimed, raising his glass in the air. “That’s what Agnes meant. Choose your faces wisely! That’s what she meant, we should switch bodies!” 

Crowley let Aziraphale’s words sink into his wine soaked brain for a few moments before it clicked. “Yes! Angel, you’re a genius!” And if he jumped up in excitement, he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. What Crowley would remember was Aziraphale’s strong hand coming up to the back of his neck as the angel pressed a kiss to his lips. After four bottles of wine, it was all Crowley could do to kiss back and give Aziraphale all of him. 

And in an apartment in London an angel and a demon kissed for what might have been days for all they knew, had it not been for the fact they were still very much so pissed when they pulled apart. And if an Angel woke up with his arms wrapped around a demon, well then he just wouldn’t have to tell anyone that he snuggled closer, breathing in the auburn hair he’d longed to touch for millennia. 

And if a demon woke up in the arms of an angel in an apartment in London, then he would have to figure out a way to hide the fact that he was feeling very, very little in that moment. He looked up at Aziraphale, willing his brain to form proper sentences, and his bladder to be entirely empty. Crowley excused himself to the bathroom and all but ran to the medicine cabinet. He bent over the sink, taking a handful of little suppressant pills. A handful was most defiantly not the recommended dosage, but Crowley couldn’t technically be hurt by it so he never bothered to read the package. 

As was such, Crowley was violently ripped from little space and hit with an intense wave of emotions. The shame, guilt, anxiety, and self hatred he felt hit him all at once as the memories from last night came crashing back down onto him. If it were possible for him to throw up Crowley would have, he stayed hyperventilating hunched over the sink for what seemed like hours, but must have only been minutes, because Aziraphale had not yet come looking for him. Crowley tried to grasp his train of thought and come back down to his body. He began running through all the fears last night’s events had put in his head. ‘What if I become little while in Aziraphale’s body? What if Aziraphale finds out while he’s in my body? Would Aziraphale regret kissing me if he found out my classification?’ were just a few of the concerns running through his mind. 

Crowley sucked in a deep breathe, snapping to a decision right then and there. He would just have to hide his classification from Azirapahle. The fact of the matter was that Aziraphale is a Baseline and would never want to be Crowley’s cargegiver.


	2. Lunch and Other Events

“Crowley dear are you okay in there?” Aziraphale’s voice came from the other side of the door, but it might as well have come from the moon to Crowley. 

He breathed deeply trying to gather himself enough to create a response. He looked in the mirror to ground himself, sucking in another great breathe. “Yeah ‘m fine Angel.” He exited the bathroom, immediately being attacked by Aziraphale’s lips on his own. Despite the fear he felt he couldn’t help but lean into the kiss. He’d waited 6,000 years for this after all. 

An Angel and A Demon currently sat across from each other, settling in for a late lunch at The Ritz. The Ritz had been full, that is until Aziraphale had asked the host to check again, at which time there was, as it turned out, an empty table wedged in-between the other packed seats. Aziraphale as usual ordered an array of items, spanning nearly the entirety of the menu. Crowley on the other hand unusually didn’t even glance at his wine, instead fidgeting and glancing around the restaurant. 

Crowley took stock of the human patrons, as he often did when they went out. He scanned the room, seeing families with babies, couples, and surprisingly a little with someone Crowley presumed to be their caregiver. Crowley tried to recall the last time he’d seen a fellow little; at least a year he’d guess. Being a little in and of it’s self was a rarity, let alone allowing yourself to be little in public. There was a reason the little suppressant market was thriving. Things were coming around, but being a little was still frowned upon in many places. Allowing yourself to be little could be very dangerous even for humans, let alone for someone like Crowley. He shuddered, thinking about the gruesome details in a news article he had read a few days ago. 

The estimated amounts of classifications for humans at the moment was 1% of the population being littles, 2% Caregivers and 97% baseline, though in the 6,000 years Crowley had been living amongst humans that number changed overtime. What didn’t change was that hell was 100% baselines. Except for Crowley that was. He’d been the only little to ever fall, and for good reason. If anyone in hell had ever found out he’d have been killed on the spot.

Baselines made up about half of all angels; the other half was made up of the two remaining classifications. Caregivers and littles were evenly matched in heaven. God had made each caregiver and little in a matched pair, perfectly made for each other. Unless you were Crowley, who had no caregiver even in heaven. This was the reason there were no littles or caregivers in hell, nobody would risk falling when they had their own personal soulmate. 

Crowley was pulled from his thoughts by a baby wailing somewhere in the restaurant. He banged his knee against the table, startled by Aziraphale suddenly speaking. “Ngk, ahh,” Crowley rubbed his knee, looking over at Aziraphale, “What?”

“I said,” Aziraphale held back a giggle, taking another bite of his pudding, “Something the matter dear?”

“Nothing, Just,” Crowley waved his hand about, gesturing to the room at large, “Babies crying and such. ‘S rather loud.” He paused to gulp down some much needed wine before placing his hand on top of the angel’s. 

“Oh yes, children can rather be a handful sometimes,” Crowley’s heart dropped at that, despite Aziraphale’s innocent smile. He was rather grateful for his sunglasses. Aziraphale had unwittingly assured Crowley that he was uninterested in taking care of a little, uninterested in taking care of a needy and disgusting Crowley during his little space. At least in Crowley’s mind, he was most assured taking care of a little was out of the question for a baseline and that he would be rejected by his love if he found out. 

Crowley let his gaze drift back to the caregiver and little sitting a few feet away. He couldn’t help but feel envious as he watched the man spoon feed his little. how Crowley wished he could be cared for, how he wished for a day when he could order a colorful sugary drink with a bendy straw. He hoped Aziraphale didn’t notice how his gaze lingered on the kids menu when they went out to eat. Aziraphale did in fact notice this, but had chalked it up to Crowley’s picky eating habits, and sheer curiosity. 

Said demon was yet again pulled from his thoughts when Aziraphale pulled his hand away to pick up his napkin. He looked at Crowley expectantly. “Ready to go home my dear boy?”

“Home?” Crowley’s brain felt like it was short circuiting. 

“Well yes I rather thought,” Aziraphale’s face grew red with a blush as he took a beat to gather himself, “I rather thought you would want to share quarters. Now that we’ve gotten together that is.”

“Of course Angel. Wherever you like. I’ll go.” The pair stood up to leave, positively beaming as they miracled a rather sizable tip onto the table.


	3. Small Comforts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter I just felt like that was the best place to leave it off. I took this off anon because it would get glitchy if I added a chapter while it was on anon.

It had been well over two weeks since armageddon was avoided and Aziraphale had decided Crowley was no longer going too fast for him. In fact Crowley rather found Aziraphale was going too fast for his liking now. In the past two weeks since Crowley had unofficially moved into the bookshop he and Aziraphale had made love on every surface in the bookshop in every way imaginable. Not that Crowley would complain; however this did make it rather difficult to get away from the bookshop as often as he need to. Luckily he’d still kept most of his material objects and his plants at his apartment. (They still had apearances to keep up if they were to pull off the switch after all.) This gave Crowley a rather convenient excuse to visit his apartment frequently to take his suppressants, thus far he’d avoided suspicion from Aziraphale rather well. 

You could call those first two weeks before the swap the ‘honeymoon phase’; the period of time in which Crowley and Aziraphale were so wrapped up in domestic bliss they almost forgot what and who they were, and all the problems that went along with that. Almost. Crowley was rather looking forward to the body swap, as he was late or missed taking his doses of suppressants with increasing frequency. He often found himself unable to or unwilling to slip away for long enough to go to his apartment as they began to anticipate an attack from one side or the other. 

And so Crowley found himself toeing the line between little and big. Crowley was dangerously close to slipping into little space on numerous occasions, his child like tendencies seeping into his everyday life. He couldn’t help but rub the soft blankets on the sofa against his cheek or in-between his fingers when Aziraphale wasn’t looking, or holding his cup with two hands out of fear of spilling. The breaking point for Crowley was when he did spill a glass of wine on Aziraphale’s carpet; he had struggled to keep himself from crying as Aziraphale miracled away the stain. After that incident the demon realized he’d have to find a better way to hide this from Aziraphale or his secret would be out by the end of the week. 

Crowley was thankful the date for the swap had finally come, giving him time to gather himself enough to come up with a long term plan. He slipped his suppressant pills into his pocket as he left his apartment for the last time before the swap, cleverly stashing them behind a pile of books as he returned to the book shop. Now all he had to do was wait for Aziraphale to leave. 

After the duo had performed the swap, and said their (rather tearful) goodbyes, Crowley immediately downed as many pills as he could fit in his hand, only after realizing that he was running dangerously low on the only thing holding his life together. He was always careful to leave no trace of having them, miracling them would alert hell to his status, and buying them online would leave a record as well. This left Crowley to put himself in rather dangerous situations to get the illegal pills. This was better done while entirely big as to not get taken advantage of, he had learned that lesson the hard way. 

Crowley had gone so long without consistently taking his suppressants that the handful of pills didn’t do much to relieve his urge to suck on his, or rather Aziraphale’s, thumb immediately. Not being able to get over the shame of indulging in such an act, he settled for rubbing his cheek into the soft throw blankets on the back of Aziraphale’s couch, trying to sleep. 

After about 20 minutes of this, the demon couldn’t resist the urge to miracle the one comfort he’d allowed himself over the millennia out of its storage in the ether. A small woolen blanket, embroidered with small flowers and vines came into existence. Crowley’s thumb settled itself into a well worn spot, rubbed thin by worrying fingers over the centuries. 

He recalled when he’d received the item, one of his few pleasant memories that didn’t expressly involve Aziraphale. He’d been given the blanket by a small girl, whose father he regularly worked for. The work provided the perfect cover for general mischief and misdeeds. The girl, as most children did, grew a fondness for Crowley and gifted him the blanket. Crowley allowed himself to keep it, as he couldn’t bare to part with it, though if you asked him he would say it was merely practical. Snakes did need to keep extra warm after all. 

Crowley wasn’t able to sleep without Aziraphale, but he did rub a new hole into his blanket.


	4. The Painful Reminder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another short chapter it's just what I'm cranking out I guess. But two chapters in one day so! (It's like 11:50 pm so it counts.) Sorry for this getting dark af I promise the next chapter will be a bit more lighthearted.

Crowley must have unintentionally fallen asleep, one of the side effects of the suppressant drugs was fatigue after all. (Along with anxiety, depression, loss of appetite, an a whole slew of other problems Crowley most assuredly did not experience) He had woken up to a damp patch on Aziraphale’s favorite pants and below him on the sofa. Crowley cursed and miracled away the mess he had made in his sleep. He felt guilt and shame creep into his thoughts, miracling away his blanket as well, not wanting to be reminded of the humiliating truth of what he was. At least this meant that Aziraphale would not be waking up to any accidents, courtesy of Crowley’s body. Unfortunately this also meant coming to terms with that fact that this part of the demon’s mortifying condition was a part of him no matter what form he took. (He had already known this.)

Feeling big enough to gather his thoughts, Crowley set out to find more suppressant drugs. The realization that this task would be considerably more difficult while wearing Aziraphale’s body didn’t set in until it was far too late. Crowley had been turned away by his usual source, as they didn’t recognize him in this form. He decided to try various places around London, to no avail. He’d come dangerously close to being discorperated just outside of Soho, when he’d asked the wrong dealers for the pills. He’d walked away with only a few punches and kicks to his side, before being able to retreat to the bookshop where he promptly began to mend his wounds. Crowley had gotten lucky, it could have been much worse, his mind again drifted back to the disturbing news article he’d read. Violence against littles wasn’t uncommon, but this one had been particularly heinous. The injuries served as a harsh reminder as to just exactly what was really thought about littles.

Crowley sunk to the floor, resigning to wait until he and Aziraphale could safely swap back to replenish his supply. He prayed to anyone that would listen that he’d have just enough to get him through the trials. If he couldn’t keep it together and stay big, everything he and Aziraphale had built together and defended would be worthless. Self loathing set in as he thought about Aziraphale finding out about his classification, how he couldn’t even keep his bladder in check, let alone protect them. Crowley desperately wished to curl up into a ball and disintegrate. He tried to hold back a few choked off sobs, pressing his fingers into the last bruise left unhealed to remind himself that he deserved this.

The time waiting to be taken, to be attacked, to be put on trial, was going to be the longest time in Crowley’s life. He thought of sleeping through it, though that didn’t seem very much like Aziraphale. He settled on reading an Astrology book, finding the Angel’s normal eyes to be quite suited to the activity, especially in comparison to his own serpentine ones. He passed the time by flipping through the Angel’s book collection and meeting up with him for dates. Despite filling his time in various ways, it seemed to drag on for centuries. (It was only a few days) Crowley did not have another accident, nor did he succumb to the temptations of thumb sucking and blankie rubbing.

Crowley had convinced himself he could do this; that he could remain big and keep it together to protect Aziraphale. And simply because he believed he could, that’s exactly what Crowley did.


	5. The Other Side of Things

Aziraphale bent down to look in the mirror, scrunching up Crowley’s features. He’d been doing this for about 20 minutes now, contorting his lover’s features into funny faces and giggling about it. He found he rather liked being in Crowley’s body. It held 6,000 years worth of stories and he hoped to ask Crowley about the small scars on the sides of his feet. Crowley’s body held other various signs of wear and tear that Aziraphale found rather endearing. He traced his fingers over the scar along Crowley’s cheek, from a bar fight back in the 1700’s.

He was perplexed by the scars and indents the decorated Crowley’s hands and fingers. Each of the fingers on his left hand had a straight line permanently pressed into the flesh. He wondered how he could have not noticed those before. His brain worked overtime to piece together an explanation for the strange pattern; Aziraphale was running the fingers up and down parts of Crowley’s body when it finally clicked.

Aziraphale was pleasantly surprised to be correct when he found an array of guitars in one of Crowley’s back rooms. This space was equally as immaculate and cold as the rest of the apartment, save for the multitude of electric and acoustic guitars of all kinds that lined the walls. He was hurt briefly that he’d never gotten to hear Crowley play, but as if he were here Aziraphale could hear him saying ‘well all you had to do was ask’.

Too distracted by the new aspect he’d discovered of his demon, he’d nearly forgotten to care for the plants. He filled the plant mister with water and tried to imitate Crowley’s intimidating expressions, sauntering into the green room. He tried his best to yell the plants into submission, but he could tell they weren’t buying it. Disappointed, he gave up, resigning himself to pout in the living room. 

After serveral days of alternating between this, dates with Crowley, and gluing coins to the pavement, (that was the one mischievous thing Aziriphale did get a kick out of) he began to justify snooping around the apartment out of boredom. To his dismay he didn’t find anything beyond Crowley’s apparent musical talent. The apartment was shockingly barren beside what he’d already discovered and the wall of astronomy books the demon had, despite claiming he didn’t read often.

He’d become rather anxious about the ordeal at hand. It’d been 4 days with no word from either side and a growing sense of panic gnawed at his insides. He’d called Crowley a total of 6 times this day to ask if he was okay, each time answered with a sigh of “Yes, Angel.” After which Crowley would catch himself and start to sound more like Aziraphale. 

Aziriphale was deeply worried about Crowley, and his ability to protect said demon. Hell was a place he’d never been. Crowley had the advantage of having been an angel once, he knew where he was going and how to act but Hell was foreign territory to Aziriphale. Hell was the place you never wanted to be sent to, and it didn’t disappoint.

Despite this Aziraphale was able to more than just get through, he was able to humiliate Michael and frighten the other demons. When asked about this later Aziraphale would always laugh and smile to ear to ear, way too proud of himself for an angel.


	6. The Other Side of Crowley

Crowley had resigned himself to a life of toeing the line between little and big. Since the swap had gone off without a hitch, things had gone back to relative normalcy for the couple. Crowley had more or less moved completely into the bookshop; his plants lined nearly every wall, corner, and crevice available. The only things that remained in the apartment were his throne and guitars, all of which could be taken with when he and Aziraphale had finally found the perfect house to buy.

The one thing that had no place in his new home stayed safely tucked away in the ether. Things for Crowley had become even more complicated since they’d moved in together. Taking his suppressants was increasingly difficult. Though he’d managed to get nearly 3 months of pills, he’d missed more doses than he’d taken in the past month. This irregularity left him floating in a space that consisted of little wants and needs, with adult worries and convictions.

He agonized over the day Aziraphale would eventually find out. He’d had several accidents, where his secret was dangerously close to being exposed, even though he’d miracled away any evidence as soon is it appeared. His little habits were starting to seep into his everyday life, leaving Crowley vulnerable and on edge, constantly worried about his secret getting out and ruining everything.

Aziraphale had been greatly enjoying all the time with Crowley. The coitus was lovely, and even lovelier were the dates and small things done side by side. What he liked most was finding out small thing about the demon he hadn’t known. Even after 6,000 years there were still things he was discovering about Crowley. Twice now he’d caught Crowley rubbing the sofa blankets between two fingers, an anxious tendency he figured. None the less it made Aziraphale’s heart skip a beat. If his heart did in fact beat. Either way the angel grew fonder of Crowley with each unexpected aspect he discovered of his lover. 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but stare in little moments where Crowley wasn’t paying attention, merely relaxing, or making tea, or when he’d absentmindedly smile at him after putting on a record or pouring a glass of wine. Those moments he saw only the young demon he’d met on the wall, when they’d both been new and innocent in a way. It made his heart ache to think about how they could have never found each other, never stuck together and learned how to truly live.

“I love you,” he said, letting the words fall freely from his lips, he finally realized he could say them and not immediately be smited by The Almighty herself. “I love you Crowley. I’m sorry I didn’t let myself say it before all this,” he gestured about vaguely, knowing Crowley would understand.

“I know angel,” he slowly let the needle drop onto the record, a static-y version of O’ Sweet Nothing coming in through the speakers.

Aziraphale reached out a hand and Crowley gladly let himself be pulled down into the angel’s lap. Whispering, he pressed his forehead to Aziraphale’s, “I love you too, bastard.” 

Next thing Crowley knew, Aziraphale’s hand was wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him ever closer, as he was kissed deeply. He licked into Crowleys mouth, letting out a groan. The angel placed his hand on Crowley’s waist band, moving to touch where an effort would take place. Crowley suddenly felt extremely nauseous, very much so not okay, and painfully little. 

Aziraphale pulled away when Crowley froze, body going stock still as tears formed at the corners of his eyes. He blinked slowly, unable to process what was happening. “My dear boy, whatever is the matter?”

Crowley collapsed onto Aziraphale’s chest, beginning to sob as strong arms came up to hold him close. “Have I done something wrong?” The Angel asked, mind running wild with a thousand possibilities for what could have made Crowley so upset. Unable to speak the demon merely shook his head in response. 

Aziraphale could only hold Crowley, rubbing his back and hushing him, until he had gathered himself enough to talk. He couldn’t help but be sure it was his fault, perhaps he was the one going too fast now. Maybe he’d misread the signs and Crowley didn’t want any of this moving in together business. Guilt and sadness working him into a near panic until the crying demon in his lap finally sat up to speak. 

Crowley had felt a warm wetness seeping into his clothes, fear and shame making him lose control of his bladder. Luckily he had enough of his wits about him to miracle away the accident as it happened. “I think there’s something I should tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye get ready for sad business next chapter followed by comfort at some point.


	7. An Ineffable Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea what to name this chapter so don't read too much into the title. Or do. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has been commenting regularly I really appreciate it.

Crowley took in a deep shuddering breath, begging his lower lip to stop quivering. He tried his best to calm himself, trying to come up with a lie on the spot. In all the times he had brainstormed plans to hide this from Aziraphale, lying to the angel had never once crossed his mind. Though now faced with the reality of the situation, it was an appealing option.

Aziraphale rubbed Crowley’s arms with his shaking hands. He knew what was coming next wasn’t good but he’d convinced himself it was due to his own wrong doing. Crowley had been, well, different, since he’d moved into the bookshop. The demon had become distant, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but assume Crowley wasn’t happy.

“Crowley, I know it was rather unexpected and rude of me to spring moving in together on you like that.”

“It’s not that Angel,” He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Aziraphale interrupted Crowley, listing off any possible things he could have done in the past 6 Millenia to upset Crowley, “It’s not about in Rome when I-”

Crowley cut him off, growing anxious, “No! Angel it’s- I’m not what you think I am.”

“So, what? Are you going to tell me you're an aardvark now? Because I already knew that one dear boy,” The angel joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“No. Aziraphale. I’m not,” He trailed off thinking about what to say next, “Our classifications don’t match, and I know that means we can’t be together.”

Aziraphale stared up at Crowley in confusion, “Whatever do you mean?”

“I’m not- I’m not a baseline Aziraphale!” seeing that the angel apparently still did not understand, he continued, “I’m a little!” Crowley had said it with more hatred and spite than necessary, yelling it because that was the only way he could wrestle the words out of his mouth. He turned his head to the side, shame taking over as he felt overwhelming disgust with himself. “I know you won’t want to be with me now that you know. That’s why I didn’t say anything. Don’t look so hurt.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale felt as though he had whiplash, still trying to wrap his head around what Crowley was telling him, while simultaneously being yell at. “Crowley, I would want to be with you no matter what. I’ve wanted to be with you for 6,000 years. That being said, what the heavens do you mean you’re a little? I think I would have figured that one out by now.”

Crowley kept his gaze trained on some random spot in thin air, unable to look at the angel. “I mean...” he huffed, trying to calm his erratic and unnecessary breathing, “I was made a little. Do you have to make me keep saying it or was it not punishment enough to be made this way? I’ve been hiding it since the moment I fell. I started taking suppressants as soon as humans created them, the clever little bastards. So stop blaming yourself for what’s wrong with me. We’re just not made to be together.”

“Well I thought it was rather obvious that we weren't mean’t to be together my dear,” Aziraphale put emphasis on the word meant, trying to coax Crowley into looking at him. “Considering the whole Angel and Demon thing, we’re a rather strange couple. I’m just confused,” he added. 

“There’s nothing to be confused about. A baseline and a little aren’t compatible. Only caregivers were meant to take care of disgusting littles who can’t take care of themselves. You could never do it Angel, and I wouldn’t want you to.”

Aziraphale rather took offense to that, but put his own feelings aside. To be frank this was the only time Aziraphale had ever been really and truly confused. “I don’t think you’re disgusting. I never could. Crowley please look at me,” He placed a gentle hand under the demon’s chin. Crowley allowed his head to be turned to face Aziraphale, but still could not meet his gaze. The angel figured this was the best he was going to get from Crowley, so he carried on. “Do you remember heaven?” the demon gave a pained nod, “She created every caregiver and little in a pair. The Almighty very clearly did not think poorly of littles when she made them.”

Crowley interjected, growing angry with the ‘god made you this way so love yourself’ speech, “Well she very clearly thought poorly of me.”

“What makes you think that dear boy? Was there something wrong with your caregiver?” When Crowley merely shook his head in response Aziraphale remained silent for a long while. “What happened to your caregiver after you fell?”

“I didn’t have one,” seeing Aziraphale’s scrunched up face of confusion he repeated himself, “I didn’t have a caregiver. I have never had a caregiver.” The words hurt Crowley deeply to say out loud. 

Aziraphale was deeply saddened and confused by what he was hearing. “Surely she had made you with one?”

“That’s the question that I asked, the one that made me fall. I asked god why she had made me without a caregiver and I guess that was the straw that broke the camels back, because next thing I knew I was doing a thousand year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulfur.”

Aziraphale had never questioned god before but he certainly was now, he looked up towards heaven, feeling an unwelcome rush of anger. How could she be so cruel? To let Crowley be alone and uncared for even in heaven. Casting him out for wanting love. Aziraphale couldn’t imagine being so little, so hurt, and being cast out to hell. He hated to imagine how horrible it had been for Crowley to hide this for so many years and live that way. No wonder he didn’t look back on his time as an angel fondly. A choked off sob wrenched its way from his throat. Aziraphale had never cried before, unlike Crowley who only claimed such. He tried pushing past the feeling to comfort Crowley, bringing him in close for a hug. “Oh Crowley. I’m so sorry,” he managed to croak out into Crowley’s soft red hair.

The demon was suddenly wracked with sobs, face heating up with rage and embarrassment, doing nothing to hide his wet and red face from the angel. “I don’t deserve it Angel. Even god didn’t care for me. What kind of wretched creature must I be that I didn’t deserve a caregiver even as an angel.”

“Crowley, there must be some reason for this. You deserve to be cared for and cherished not just as my partner but as a little too and I’m more than capable of providing you with both. So please let me take care of you Crowley,” He seethed at the thought of the countless people who had made Crowley feel as though the way he was created was wrong, had made him ashamed of merely existing from the moment of his creation. Aziraphale vowed to never let Crowley feel such a way again.

Crowley gave a small nod, tears still streaming down the sides of his face, as he tried to work out what exactly just happened. And Aziraphale held him while he cried for what felt like an eternity, not that the angel would complain. If Aziraphale shed a few of his own tears, Crowley didn’t have to know.

Anger for what god had done to Crowley with seemingly no explaination or plan beyond making Crowley miserable, ran icy cold through Aziraphale’s veins. He hated to feel such things towards the almighty but doubt had thoroughly rooted it’s self deep in his heart. Later Aziraphale would pray on the matter, asking to be shown what the plan was, to no answer. Little did he know the ineffable plan had put Crowley in exactly the place he needed to be.


	8. The Bath

Crowley finally allowed himself to go limp against Aziraphale’s chest, tears beginning to dry into his cheeks. He tried to form a coherent thought about what happened. He waited, breathe slowing out to a sleepy drawl. He waited to fall, be dumped onto the floor in disgust, to be left alone again. He waited for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. Instead Aziraphale kissed him gently. Despite Crowley’s face being covered in snot and tears, Airapahle kissed him. And when he pulled away Crowley saw that there were tears there too, small damp spots dusting his face. He reached up a thumb, dragging it through the wetness that had gathered under blue eyes. 

“It’s okay Angel,” He meant to say, but his voice came out barely a whisper, much softer than he’d hoped. A few moments passed and Crowley was suddenly being carried tight against a warm chest. He buried his face in it, inhaling the scent of old books and rich cologne. He was set down on the bathroom counter as Aziraphale filled a bath tub that had only existed because he wanted it to. He watched transfixed as the angel rolled up his sleeves and stirred in what he could only assume was bubble soap. 

He sat idly, waiting for - something. Instructions he supposed, a cue as to what he should do with himself. Instructions never came though. Crowley let Aziraphale silently strip him of his clothes, only protesting when the angel moved to pick him up. “I don’t need help in the bath,” he said, voice hoarse from crying. 

Aziraphale merely answered with, “I know.” Lifting Crowley and placing him in the tub. 

Crowley let himself sink into the water, bringing a hand up to wet his itchy face. A wash cloth was miracled into existence and he allowed Aziraphale to scrub up and down his lengthy limbs. Careful attention was paid to every inch of his body, and his cheeks burned under it. He started to feel his eyelids grow heavy with sleep as his back was rubbed clean. Crowley vaguely registered a noise, blinking up at Aziraphale, unable to process what he’d just heard. 

“Can I wash your hair?” Aziraphale repeated, meeting Crowley’s gaze. Something about this simple act of care felt so much more intimate than anything else they’d done in their 6,000 years together. He didn’t dare speak again, afraid to pull Crowley from whatever trance he’d worked himself into. 

The demon thought for a moment and nodded tentatively, ducking his head to get away from the angel’s burning eye contact. Crowley suddenly felt very vulnerable and very, very little. He dragged a finger through the water, willing himself to be just a bit bigger. Warm water was poured over his head from a cup, and then large hands massaged shampoo into his hair. He couldn’t help but melt into the touch and let himself be bathed. Aziraphale didn’t bother with conditioner; however, Crowley’s hair would remain soft because it was expected to. He took the hand that extended out towards him, rising to step out and stand on the bath mat. A soft towel was thrown over his head, and his hair patted dry. He peaked out from beneath the towel before quietly reiterating his previous statement. “Angel just because m’,” He took a long pause, hoping Aziraphale would just get it, “Doesn't mean I can’t do all this myself.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale was heartbroken and frustrated with the resistance, “This has got nothing to do with you being little and everything to do with you being a mess right now. I want to care for you. I know you could do it yourself, but it seems you’re in no place to do it right now. So please just let me take care of you for tonight and we can talk about it in the morning after you get some rest.”

Crowley pouted, but complied with Aziraphale’s request. “ ‘m not tired,” He argued despite the slow heavy lidded blinking he couldn’t seem to control. 

Aziraphale didn’t answer, instead continuing to dry the rest of the demon’s body. He slid a silken pajama top and bottoms onto Crowley, a sleepy head coming to rest on his shoulder soon after. He couldn’t help but smile as he picked up the little and placed him in their bed, pulling the covers up around him just the way he liked 

Crowley’s eyes drifted shut as he barely registered his fingers going to rub the Angel’s night shirt between two fingers. And if he sucked his thumb in his sleep, Aziraphale didn’t tell him. 

Aziraphale stared down at his partner with mixed emotions. Deciding to sleep on it, in the hopes he could sort out how he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoy this fluff because things are about to get real feelings.


	9. A Place for Crowley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out! I've been having some health problems, but I'm quite a bit better now. Hope you guys enjoy.

Soft light streamed in through the window, washing the room in a calm yellow glow. Crowley snuggled deeper into the warmth of the moment, eyes blinking sleepily against the encroaching morning. He fell easily in and out of sleep, wrapped in the safety of Aziraphale’s arms. That is until he realized he was sucking his thumb, and that Aziraphale had seen him sucking his thumb. He recalled the events of last night, now filled with harsh guilt and embarrassment. Aziraphale had bathed him and shown him so much love it made his heart ache even retroactively. It had been the most calm and loved he’d felt in his very long life, and yet he felt completely and thoroughly humiliated for it having happened at all. Guilt sunk his heart into his stomach and he briefly considered running off to Alpha Centauri. Had it not been for the fact that there was no guarantee Aziraphale would not follow, he would would have been gone by now. 

He’d guilt tripped Aziraphale into caring for him and taking on a role he was not meant to. He’d been so kind and understanding but he was an angel. It was in his nature to care for the wretched. Unfortunately Crowley was feeling entirely big and that came with the realization that this was probably the last time he would wake up next to Aziraphale, feeling warm and loved and safe. His shoulders began to shake, unable to stop himself from crying, despite how big he felt. The shame and guilt from being such a cry baby set in immediately. He wished he could take a handful of suppressants, but he had no idea where they were and could not summon them. 

Aziraphale woke to the shuddering of a demon crying against his chest. Deciding it was best not to say anything, He instead pulled the shaking being in closer and began stroking his hair. He waited for the subtle shaking to stop before rolling Crowley onto his back and giving him a soft kiss on the lips. “Ok dear boy, whatever is the matter now?”

Crowley didn’t answer right away, instead looking down at his hands and thinking intently about what he wanted to say. “You took care off me last night. While I was-” he stopped, giving his hand a wave.

“Little? You can say it Crowley it’s not a dirty word. I’m not going to pack up and leave if you say it.” 

Aziraphale had somehow pinpointed exactly what Crowley was afraid of, despite he himself not knowing exactly what that was. He spread his boney hand out on Aziraphale’s chest, “I don’t want you to have to take care of me Aziraphale. I don’t want you to feel guilty, and pity me because I’m a little. I don’t want you to take care of me out of obligation, I know since you’re a baseline you won’t get anything out of it. I can keep taking my suppressants and we can carry on the way we were before. Or if you want to leave all together I understand too.”

“For Christ’s sake Crowley!” Aziraphale was full well yelling now, taking Crowley’s hand off his chest. “I want to be with you! I’ve wanted to be with you for 6,000 years! In whatever form that is I frankly don’t give a damn, my dear,” He shouted, bolting upright and looking down at Crowley. “Stop assuming that I look down on you and love you out of obligation! I get so so much out of loving you and caring for you no matter what your classification is. Is that what you truly think of me? That I’d just get up and leave you to continue to hurt yourself or stand by and watch while you destroy your corporation with those pills?”

A tear worked its way down Crowley’s face and he shook his head. The room was filled with an awkward silence until Crowley filled it with, “ ‘m sorry Angel.” tears falling freely now. Aziraphale felt awful. He’d yelled at Crowley and made him feel worse. All over something he can’t control. Maybe he actually was the kind of person who could do such horrid things to his partner. He pulled Crowley in close, his heart breaking when he heard Crowley muttering “I’m sorry” over and over again into his chest. He couldn’t help but parrot the words back at him, apologizing repeatedly into the soft red fluff atop the demon’s head.

“I think we should have that talk Crowley,” he finally said when they had both calmed down enough to sit up and have a conversation. Crowley acknowledged him by nodding, letting Aziraphale take the lead. “First and foremost I want you to stop taking the suppressant pills. It’s your choice, I get that, but that’s where I stand.” He waited for another nod of acknowledgment before continuing, “I want to be with you. I want to be your caretaker if you’ll let me try. You can set up whatever boundaries you like. It’s up to you. I’ll take care of you however you need.”

“I don’t want to wear diapers,” Crowley said much too quickly, making Aziraphale laugh. 

“Ok. No diapers then.” He pressed a soft kiss to Crowley’s forehead.


	10. A New Arrangement

“I want everything to be the same. When I’m big that is. I’m not in little space all the time. I don’t want to be treated any different just because I’m,” he coughed, hoping desperately Aziraphale wouldn’t make him say the word. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with so just be honest with me. You should know I’m kind of-” another vague hand gesture, “Gross and needy, when I’m little.”

“Crowley, I know very well what littles are like, and I’m more than okay with it. I actually rather look forward to being able to snuggle you and play with you and even take care of you when you’re being messy or ‘gross’,” The angel put air quotes around the word to assure Crowley it was ridiculous to even suggest he could ever find him gross. “You can’t control that and I am more than happy to take care of you in all the ways you need my love.”

Crowley wouldn’t admit it but he blushed deep red, taking up Aziraphale’s hand, more for his own comfort than anything. “I don’t think you understand angel. I’m really, proper little.” Aziraphale took a guess at his age when regressed, guessing 4. This guess was rather off the mark. “More like, eh, one-ish. Maybe two on a good day,” He tried and failed to keep the words from sounding choked off and pained. 

“_One?_”__

_ _“Yes. Don’t make me say it again,” He groaned, rolling over to hide his face in the pillows. _ _

_ _Aziraphale wouldn’t admit it, but it was at this point that he started to panic. He was unsure of his own abilities to care for a little and considering just _how_ little Crowley was, it would be much more difficult. Despite this he said, “Well we will make it work Crowley. You just let me know what you need and we will figure it out together.”___ _

_ _ _ _The demon returned to his side, grumbling, “I don’t need diapers, or anything bloody ridiculous like that.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Aziraphale rolled his eyes in a way that was decidedly very unangelic, sarcasm seeping into his voice, “Well now that we’ve established what you _don’t_ need, what exactly do you need?”___ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _“I don’t technically need anything, angel. I would like it if we could do more stuff like- well like last night. If you’re okay with it. I mean, we need to work our way up to it of course, start out small.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _Aziraphale smiled down at Crowley’s reddening face, “Okay then. I think I would like to get you some stuff for when you’re little. Maybe toys? Or blankets?” He paused, the seemingly positive reaction Crowley had to the suggestions giving him a bit more confidence in his abilities. “That does bring me to a question though, Crowley dear. I hope you don’t mind me asking, are you- well, verbal when you’re little?”_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _Crowley considered for a moment, afraid of giving Aziraphale the wrong answer, “Sometimes. It depends. When I am it’s limited.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _“Ok well then we’ll just have to come up with a sign for if you’re not okay with what is happening. How about if you are feeling uncomfortable you can hold up two fingers like this,” Aziraphale demonstrated, holding up two fingers side by side. He grinned when Crowley smiled and nodded. “Ok then. Now that it seems we have that sorted, Lunch at the Ritz today?” he asked, getting a sharp laugh and a kiss from his partner in response._ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned how to italicize and I'm going to abuse my new skill.


	11. A Different Kind of Date

It started with a chair. A great big fluffy thing, big enough for the two of them to sit comfortably in. A glider, Aziraphale had called it. They decided to start small, and thus the chair came into their lives. Crowley did not wear the soft and colorful clothes of an infant, but rather his normal silk pajamas. He’d fold up his long body into the chair, and Aziraphale would pull him into his lap and rock them until Crowley fell asleep. Sometimes Aziraphale would read, either to himself or out loud. Sometimes Aziraphale would stare down at him and smile, rubbing his back in small circles or running a hand through his hair. Either way when the slow motions soothed Crowley to sleep (He tried to fight it every time, but in the end the sleep would always win out), he would wake up to Aziraphale. Sometimes he would wake up being carried to the bedroom, sometimes he would wake up still nestled in the Angel’s arms long past the sun went down. But he always woke up to his angel. And Aziraphale would say “Good morning my love,” in a way that made Crowley feel so small. So safe. That’s how they started. Small. Crowley thought that if this was the way things went for the rest of eternity he wouldn’t mind. 

Coming off the suppressants was unpleasant to say the least. Crowley spent much of the first two weeks sleeping. Always sleeping somewhere, but mostly the chair. Everything was kind of hazy and bleary and slow. Luckily he was still in his right mind enough to be able to miracle away any accidents as they happened, and Aziraphale would be none the wiser. 

What Aziraphale wouldn’t tell him is that Crowley had accidents much more frequently than he thought. While he slept mostly, sometimes while sitting on the angel’s lap. Aziraphale didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. He thought he would be disgusted by it, but power through for Crowley. And while he didn’t find it pleasant, he realized he could never find anything the demon did disgusting. He would simply miracle it away to save Crowley any embarrassment it may cause. He was rather enjoying the soft snuggly reassurance that was most often found in his lap or at his side these days. 

He woke Crowley gently from his sleep, picking him up and moving them to the couch. “Are you feeling up to dinner?” Now was about the time they’d usually get ready to go out, but the last three days Crowley had avoided leaving the bookshop. 

“Not while ‘m little angel,” Aziraphale’s face fell at that, and Crowley felt dreadful. “I’m sorry. Tomorrow I promise.” He got an idea as Aziraphale moved to get up from the sofa, “What would you say to bringing the Ritz here?” Crowley snapped his fingers, a dinner table and menus that may or may not have disappeared from the Ritz, reappeared in their kitchen. 

Aziraphale’s face brightened, and he pulled Crowley up by the hand toward the table. “I would say that sounds like an excellent idea my dear boy,” He said, settling in across from his partner. 

They sat pretending to read their menus as if they didn’t already know everything the Ritz served. Crowley stared longingly at the kids section of the menu and decided that it couldn’t hurt to miracle up something from that side of the menu while it was just him and Aziraphale. 

“Alright I think I’m ready dear,” Aziraphale said closing and setting down his menu. Crowley nodded, and they snapped in unison banishing their menus and in their place sat their food. He looked rather surprised that Crowley had gotten any actual food let alone chicken tenders and what appeared to be applesauce. Crowley seemed to be embarrassed by his sudden urge to indulge in food. “I’m glad you decided to have something other than wine tonight dear. Would you by any chance like help cutting that?” Aziraphale asked seeing Crowley struggle with his cutlery. 

Crowley covered his face with his hands, sliding the plate over to Aziraphale. He was angry that his motor skills weren’t what they usually were, but he knew Aziraphale didn’t mean any harm in asking to help him. 

They ate their meal, exchanging pleasant, albeit meaningless conversation. By the time they’d gotten around to dessert Crowley was so tired he could hardly sit up straight let alone feed himself. Aziraphale offered to feed Crowley scooting over to sit beside him. He felt an immense rush of love when Crowley hesitantly agreed and allowed himself to be fed. Aziraphale thought to himself that this is what being a caretaker is about, as he looked into Crowley’s wide yellow eyes, sunglasses long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It started with a chair" is the opening line of Juno isn't it?


	12. The Pacifier

Crowley was falling, the wind rushing past his ears was deafening. His eyes melted away to hot lava, replaced by those of a snake. And then came the splash, hot sulfur burning every inch, every atom of him. It burned him up until there was nothing left, leaving him a shriveled husk. He screamed, the screams ripped from his throat hurt almost as bad as the boiling hot liquid.

Suddenly he was being pulled up, and up, and up, through hell and onto his feet. He’d been pulled all the way up to the garden of eden. His bare feet hit the wall, cool stone soothing the burning flesh at the soles of his feet. He breathed in relief, an angel now standing only a few feet away. The angel turned to face Crowley, his warm smile suddenly turning sour. The angel gave him a once over, eyes stopping just below the waist. Crowley looked down, his robes were soiled with urine. “How grotesque,” said the angel, waving over a second man he hadn’t noticed before. This one was shorter, blonde curls framing his round face. The second angel carried a flaming sword, which was soon driven deep into Crowley’s sternum, pushing him from the wall, and once again he was falling.

Crowley screamed in agony, clutching his chest. His hand dropped to the hot liquid pooling under him. He heaved, trying to catch the breathe he so desperately didn’t need. He inhaled deeply, trying to soothe his burning lungs. He only vaguely realized he’d wet the entirety of his side of the bed. Crowley gagged and gasped, finally calming into a heavy sob after several minutes. He could hardly make out what was happening, the pain of his flesh and bones burning off still horrifically real.

Azriaphale blinked sleepily, sitting up slowly. He registered Crowley, the gangly body beside him wracked with sobs. He sat up bolt right, touching Crowley’s shoulder gently. This seemed to break something in the demon, because suddenly the empty space in his arms was occupied. Crowley’s wings were on full display, giving a few beats before resting on the bed as the weeping continued. His eyes widened, not quite understanding what was happening. He felt a cooling liquid on the bed and saw that Crowley had wet himself. He held Crowley tight, miracling away the mess.

Crowley was unable to describe the dream, trembling as tears continued to stream down his cheeks in neat little paths. “Come now my dear boy. I’ve got you,” Aziraphale said moving to groom his wigs, a rather soothing, albeit painfully intimate act. The angel ran fingers through his wings, working free any loose ones, hushing Crowley all the while. Just when the tears had stopped and he could almost drift back to sleep, Aziraphale asked again what the dream had been about. Crowley took a deep breath, going to put away his wings, but was stopped by a large pair of white wings closing in around them. He snuggled up closer, feeling much more secure surrounded by the warmth and privacy of Aziraphale’s wings. He began to feel very little and exposed as he started to describe his dream, making grabby hands at the Angel’s wings. He was allowed to bury his hands in the soft whiteness, his childish habits tempting him to rub one soft feather in particular.

In the safety of Aziraphale’s wings Crowley recounted the dream, starting from the horrific beginning. Aziraphale comforted Crowley, nestling him in safely under one wing and wiping away small tears as they appeared. He was no caregiver but he couldn’t deny how utterly adorable Crowley was when he was little, and how equally heart breaking it was to see his little this broken up. Unfortunately seeing the demon cry was rather becoming a frequent event lately. He let Crowley calm down for a few more moments after he finished, before asking any more questions.

“So who was the other angel in your dream my dear boy?”

“Dunno,” the demon said wishing he could fall asleep again. More than anything he wished he could miracle blankie into his hands, but angel feathers would have to do at the moment. Blankie was an ugly old worn thing and he feared if anyone were to see it they would throw it away, toss it in the rubish with the old holy clothes, or make it into a rag. He found the holes endearing, the rubbing made the blanket all the softer, and couldn’t bring himself to miracle it fixed. He was pleasantly suprised and incredibly embarrassed when there was the small electric spark of a miracle being performed, a black and grey pacifier now resting in Aziraphale’s out stretched hand.

Aziraphale could tell Crowley was feeling quite little and ready to go back to bed, seeing as the demon was inching his thumb back up towards his mouth. He thought quickly, summoning a pacifier and hesitantly pressing it to Crowley’s closed lips. Aziraphale knew they had agreed to start small, he deliberated for a few moments whether this was too big of a step before decided to just go for it. Considering the little slowly wrapped his lips around the pacifier, he had done the right thing. The demon slowly started to suck on the pacifier, a deep red blush developing behind it, the soft ‘thck, thck, thck’ sound soothing him to sleep.


	13. The Bentley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might change the chapter title. Sorry this chapter took so long. It was part of a longer chapter that I split into three chapter as it was nearing on 3,000 words.
> 
> Also i am overjoyed at how well this is being received and I can’t thank y’all who have been reading and commenting enough.

He was no stranger to Crowley’s nightmares, after living with Crowley for some odd months now he’d held Crowley as he shook and screamed countless times. Normally the nightmares only spanned the scope of Aziraphale’s own death or the demon’s fall. All wrenched at his heart to see the aftermath of, but this one weighed heavy on his mind. The sun began to rise and he realized he wasn’t going back to bed today. He nestled a pillow into Crowley’s arms, taking a long look at the sleeping little. The red hair was messed up and spread out on the pillows, a red pacifier still bobbing steadily in his mouth. Aziraphale gave him one last kiss on the forehead before heading downstairs to the bookshop. 

Crowley fell in and out of a restless sleep that night, waking up several times to a dark room and an angel rubbing his back. Twice he’d woken up to a wet bed. Once as he’d woken up screaming and thrashing, to his angel calming him back to sleep. The second time had been well after the sun had risen, to a lonely bed and a heart full of shame. He laid in his own wetness, sulking and letting himself cry until his tears dried up. In his moment of weakness he pulled his hand up, snapping. His blankie appeared out of nothing and he set to sucking his pacifier and rubbing at the shabby fabric. As much as he was ashamed to admit it, just having his blanket in his hands made him feel marginally better and gave him the motivation to clean himself up.

Aziraphale was startled from his book by the sound of Crowley stomping down the stairs at nearly half past eleven. Crowley came and stood in front of him, clad in his usual skin tight pants and some form of a black shirt and jacket. Aziraphale was glad Crowley was feeling like his old self but the way he said, “Well then Angel? Nearly about lunch time, what do you say to the Ritz?” like he hadn’t just been a shaking wreck a few hours ago was concerning. 

“Well yes of course dear,” Crowley nodded and his car keys came flying toward him, which he neatly caught with one hand. Aziraphale’s face scrunched up and he added, “My apologies, but I must ask. My dear boy, are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

That hurt. The realization that Aziraphale would never think of him as his partner, as capable, as anything other than little, hit him like a truck. He worked through the tightness in his chest, voice coming out strained and vicious, “_No Angel._ I planned on letting _you_ drive the Bentley. Yes, I’m okay to drive my own bloody car.” He walked out the bookshop door, letting it slam shut behind him. He plopped down into the Bentley, the engine roaring to life after nearly a month without use. He’d missed the smooth leather of the seats and the soft static of the radio behind the sound of Freddie Mercury’s musings. Crowley quickly skipped forward on the CD as Somebody to Love had started playing, he settled on Seven Seas of Rhye. Much more fitting for his mood, and didn’t recall painful memories. Crowley pulled a pair of sunglasses out and pushed them up his nose, thankful for the barrier as Aziraphale scrambled into the car. 

Aziraphale gripped the door handle, The demon speeding off immediately, not even giving him a chance to put on his seatbelt. _“Crowley!”_ he yelped, getting thrown against the door as they made a turn at 90 miles per hour. He warned Crowley of a pedestrian in the crosswalk coming up. 

“What? Don’t think I’m capable of driving my own car?” Anthony snapped, coming a little closer to hitting the old woman than he’d meant to. 

Aziraphale’s face fell, and his voice softened as he realized how he’d mucked up and been an ass, “Crowley, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Don’t be daft Aziraphale. I know exactly what you meant.”

He grew frustrated with Crowley’s nasty tone, his patience wearing thin, “I just meant that-”

“That I shouldn’t be driving because I’m a little despite the fact that I’ve been doing it for decades now?”

“Well, now that you're acting like a child maybe you’re right, you shouldn’t be driving,” Aziraphale snarled back. 

The Bentley made a screeching protest, as Crowley slammed on the brakes, rubber burning on asphalt. “Well we’re here,” the demon got out of his car, leaving Aziraphale gaping in the passenger seat.


	14. How to Push Your Boyfriend's Buttons by Anothony J. Crowley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter of this. How weird. Anyways.

The Ritz was packed nearly to capacity, Crowley snapped his fingers, walking past the people waiting to be seated and sat at an empty table, waiting for Aziraphale to catch up. When the Angel huffed and angrily sat across from him he acted as though nothing had happened at all, lazily gazing at the menu.

“What the heavens was that about?” Aziraphale asked, any louder and he would have been shouting.

“I have no idea why you’re cross with me angel,” he said nonchalantly, smiling at the waiter. He ordered a large glass of red, watching Aziraphale sputter and stumble over his words as he too ordered a glass of wine.

Crowley grinned devilishly when the angel glared at him from across the table. Getting Aziraphale worked up made him feel only marginally better. The self hatred and sadness he felt at the lost respect from his partner momentarily eclipsed by the thrill of making Aziraphale angry. Normally he would be excited about the positively brutal sex they would be having later after he apologized, but he doubted they’d ever even get close to love making again after he realized how Aziraphale must feel about him now. Crowley couldn’t stand being pitied; mourned the loss of independence and the fact that Aziraphale’s view of him changed entirely rather than just opening up to let in a new facet of their relationship.

Aziraphale wouldn’t play into Crowley’s little games. Before all this happened he’d get riled up and take Crowley home for a good shagging, but now he just felt weird about it. Felt weird about thinking of Crowley in that way now that he knew the truth about his classification, felt weird about the new implications of Crowley’s actions. He felt as though he was treading in dangerous waters, unable to accurately asses how he should conduct himself. Aziraphale had felt strange about their previous sexual acts, despite Crowley’s enthusiastic consent. He felt bad for feeling bad. He tried his best to just enjoy his lunch, but Crowley kept pushing, kept deliberately making him upset. He couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he’d said the wrong thing and Crowley was right, he did think of him differently. Aziraphale understood, but this was unnecessary. He looked down at his plate, avoiding Crowley’s eyes, “Crowley, I know what I said hurt your feelings but treating me like this is just cruel and unnecessary. Being childish won’t get you anywhere and just proves my point.” He paused long enough to thank the waiter for their food and wait until he was out of earshot again before continuing, “We need to talk like _adults_ about this. It’s obviously bothering you my dear boy.”

“Well _dear_, patronizing me and treating me like a child isn’t going to help. If you’re not going to treat me with respect then there’s no point in having a discussion about this,” Crowley desperately wanted to sound as cool and unbothered as Aziraphale did, but it just wasn’t in his nature. He motioned for the waiter to refill his glass again, well on his way to drunk by now. His inebriated state only added to his boldness and the tension.

Aziraphale huffed, clearly irritated by Crowley’s choice to keep drinking, “I already apologized; I don’t know what more you want from me Anthony.”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that right now,” Crowley hadn’t been this angry since, probably Rome, maybe the apocalypse. “I _want_ you to stop calling me childish, I _want_ you to stop looking at me like that. I _want you_,” Crowley stopped mid rant, feeling the worst possible thing that could happen, happening. He had been so upset, so wrapped up in his own emotions, he lost control of his bladder. For the first time since he’d been on suppressants, he’d wet himself and not had the mind to snap his fingers and save himself the shame. _At the Ritz. In public._ Conveniently while he was, most certainly not begging, for his boyfriend and caregiver’s respect, and adamantly insisting he was an adult. He abruptly got up, turning and walking as fast as he could to the bathroom, thankful that his black pants hid the wetness well.

Aziraphale sat blinking, unsure what had just happened. One moment Crowley was close to causing a scene, the next he was just... gone. He tapped at the table, going over their conversation in his head. Crowley made a good point, but he always had to be right to a fault. It made him impossible to talk to when he was already upset. He figured some times the demon would cause a fight just for some kind of attention, but this seemed different, deeper somehow.

Crowley didn’t mean to cry, he meant to just miracle himself clean and walk back out. But here he was, the telltale shaking of his shoulders giving him away to anyone who might walk in on him. Crowley was beside himself, unable to pull himself together or think long enough to snap his fingers and banish his soiled garments. And just drunk he enough he had overlooked the fact that he could perform miracles at all.

The bathroom door cracked open and in his terrified state turned his head into that of a snake momentarily to scare off any human intruders that might encounter him in his disgusting and embarrassing state.

“Really Crowley? Is that necessary?” Worse yet, it was not a human it was Aziraphale, who had the good grace to lock the door behind him.

“Bugger off Aziraphale,” Crowley lashed out, turning his back on the angel. 

The use of his name instead of ‘Angel’ caught Aziraphale off guard and stung. He took in the state of Crowley, confirming his suspicions of what had happened. Aziraphale didn’t say anything, he merely walked around Crowley, pulling a package of baby wipes from his pocket. He wiped the tears and snot off the little’s face first, the cool wetness of it soothing the hot itch on Crowley’s face.

Crowley felt disgusted with himself, Aziraphale had _expected_ this, so much so he’d prepared for Crowley to make a mess of himself. Thankfully Aziraphale did not strip him manually and embarrass him further. A small miracle and Crowley was wearing clean and dry trousers. He cried in earnest at that, feeling a nasty slew of emotions take him over. He was still angry at Aziraphale, and embarrassed he’d proven the angel right. He was a disgusting baby, who couldn’t even get through dinner without making a mess of himself, let alone be trusted to drive his beloved Bentley.

Aziraphale gently guided Crowley to a chair that had suddenly appeared in the corner of the room. He let Crowley come around on his own time, crouching down next to the demon and putting a hand on his knee. “I’m going to miracle us and the Bentley home and then we can talk about this, okay?” 

Crowley nodded, grateful that Aziraphale didn’t force him to drive, or try to drive the Bentley himself.


	15. Aziraphale's Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm writing a little verse Broadchurch fanfic.... You can thank @urenogoodtomedead on here for giving me so many ideas lmao. So if you're into Broadchurch keep an eye out for that I guess.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley into his lap, brushing a hair out of his face. The angel started rocking them slowly, letting him calm down. He couldn’t calm down, especially not in the chair that made him feel so small and vulnerable. He got up and moved to the sofa, caught between asserting himself and hating the look of hurt on Aziraphale’s face. “I’m not little right now Angel,” at least Aziraphale’s expression seemed to soften at the use of the nickname.

Crowley sucked in deep heaving breaths, trying not to hyperventilate. When he finally had calmed his breathe Aziraphale spoke, “I’m sorry I made you upset Crowley. That wasn’t my intention.” He tsked when Crowley opened his mouth to interrupt him, “i know you’re the same old Crowley I’m just having trouble reconciling adult Crowley and baby Crowley in my mind, and I feel... well... down right strange. I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you want to hear. I’m not sure what to do for you and I feel weird about wanting to do other things with you because of your classification. I know that’s irrational but that’s how I feel.”

Crowley knew how Azriaphale felt, he understood exactly why he did too. Of course he did. That didn’t make it hurt any less to hear. He weighed his options; he could apologize for the way he acted at the restaurant, but that would be admitting he was wrong. Or he could tell Azriaphale off and stomp out of here and hide away at his apartment for awhile. The latter option seemed less appealing the longer he looked at the angel, and the more he realized that Aziriphale might not come chasing after him. He groaned, sitting upright. He went somewhere between options one and two.“This is just exactly what I was worried about. I don’t want to be defined by that part of me and well...” Crowley wouldn’t admit that he blushed deep red, “I rather enjoy that part of our relationship. The sex part. And our usual relationship, I want to still be able to take you out on dates and kiss you the way we always do. Its shit that you feel that way and I don’t know how to change that now that you know the truth.”

Aziraphale sighed and rested his forehead in his hands, arguing was exhausting and he truly didn’t know what to say. He was afraid that he’d say the wrong thing and Crowley would go running, and maybe he wouldn’t see him for another 60 years. He couldn’t stand the thought; Crowley downing more of those pills that clearly have taken a toll on his soul and his corporation. On the other hand he wouldn’t stand for Crowley acting out like he did at the Ritz today. “The way you treated me at the Ritz today was unacceptable Crowley,” one look at Crowley’s big eyes, that more so resembled that of a puppy than a snake’s at the moment and felt his anger fading. He gulped, knowing that bridging the next topic wouldn’t be easy, “I think you should reconsider wearing diapers.”

The look of utter betrayal, and then anger that crossed the demon’s face didn’t sit well with Aziraphale. He braced himself for shouting or something worse, but it never came. Instead Crowley said in a low voice, “No. Absolutely not.”

The angel considered what to do next, twiddling his thumbs. If he were to pressure him he would surely run off and stay gone for the foreseeable future, but how could someone let their little have embarrassing and uncomfortable accidents all the time when there was a simple solution. Aziraphale tried his best to come across firm yet understanding, “I’m afraid I must insist this time my dear boy. I can’t in good conscience let my partner continue to wet themselves every night and day. I’m sorry but it has to happen Crowley.”

There was no shouting, no running out the door, no banging or throwing things. Instead something unexpected happened. Crowley threw himself bodily into Aziraphale’s arms, weeping uncontrollably. Before he could even think to ask what was wrong Crowley was rubbing his shirt fabric between two fingers and crying out “I’m sorry Angel. I’m sorry. Please don’t make me.”

And although Aziraphale’s heart broke at that, he was sure of what to do next for the first time since he knew Crowley was a little.


	16. Crowley's First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been written for awhile but I've had a weird week.

Crowley had never worn a diaper before. He’d obviously never been a child, and there had been no need in heaven. The crinkling of the plastic and bulk of the layers was uncomfortable to say the least. He looked in the mirror, and Crowley would have never admitted it but a few shameful tears worked their way out of him. He looked disgusting. Ridiculous. Like exactly what he was; a grown man (demon) in a baby diaper. He pulled his pants up over top of it, seeing very clearly where it bulged out at the front and back. The demon yanked down the hem of his sweater, trying very desperately to cover the embarrassing undergarment. His sweater was a tad bit longer than it had been a few seconds ago, simply because it was expected to cover his bottom. When he moved it made horrendous plastic sounds that made him constantly aware of it. Every time he would start to feel a little less uncomfortable the crinkling would pull him right out of little space.

There was a knock on the door, and Aziraphale quietly asked if he could come in. The response he got was a shakey ‘no’. He took a deep breath trying to stay patient, he couldn’t understand why Crowley was so embarrassed about something that is so normal for someone of his classification. “Could you come out here then dear boy?”

Crowley’s voice answered from the other side, “Aziraphale,” there was a pause. “This is.... it’s ridiculous. I look ridiculous. Please don’t make me come out there like this.”

The door opened, despite technically being locked, and Aziraphale stepped into the bathroom taking in the demon’s appearance. There was a very clear diaper bulge at the crotch of the tight black jeans, and he was glad that Crowley had at least tried.

“Oh don’t be silly you look fine Crowley,” Aziraphale walked over to him and ran a thumb under his eye to wipe away the tears that had gathered there. Crowley wished Azirpahale wouldn’t insist on this. Wished he could just miracle away the mess like he always did. He wished Aziraphale would just leave. Leave him to be gross and useless without the embarrassment of doing it in front of other people.

Crowley followed Azriaphale back down to the book shop, thankful for the back room where no one would see him. He winced every time he took a step, feeling the uncomfortable shifting between his legs. Aziraphale left Crowley on the couch in the back room to watch golden girls. He sat and watched TV and only cried a little bit, until Aziraphale finally closed the shop at nearly half past 8. What he wouldn’t tell Aziraphale is that he’d wet himself a grand total of 4 times in the 8 hours the book shop had been open. He’d feel the dampness under him and snap it away, before feeling a similar hot dampness in his eyes and on his cheeks. And so when Aziraphale went to check him at the end of the day he took off and held up a dry diaper, lying through his teeth to the angel. “Ahh see don’t suppose you need any more proof that the whole idea was silly Angel. Dry diaper, dry demon.”

Aziraphale gave a sign, caught between sad and tired. “Crowley did you really think I wouldn’t notice all those miracles you performed today? I knew what you were doing.”

Crowley looked down at his feet in guilt, dropping the miraculously dry nappy to the ground. And if the angel’s heart broke at the soft, “Please don’t make me,” that wrestled its way from Crowley, he wouldn’t have let on.

The angel gathered the demon in his arms and muttered “I’m sorry my dear boy,” in a tone to match the quiet of Crowley’s, before handing him a clean diaper and sending him back into the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael Sheen's American accent in The Prodigal Son is unsettling to say the least.


	17. The First Day

Crowley wore the diaper. He laid down, tucked into the blankets next to Aziraphale, pacifier bobbing steadily in his mouth. He shut his puffy eyes, willing the sleep to come so he wouldn’t have to be aware of the thick white padding under him. He waited stock still for the pleasant wash of unconsciousness, but the soft crinkling of the nappy wouldn’t allow it. Aziraphale must have thought him asleep, because soft snores started up from the other side of the bed. Crowley sighed and placed his pacifier on the night stand. He lay with his eyes open, wishing desperately to gain the sudden ability to control his bladder. He could miracle the entire thing away but his corporation would not last long after the fact, and he doubted he’d be able to get a new one.

It had been several hours of this when Crowley felt the diaper grow hot and wet. He tensed up, hoping maybe he could stop himself, but to no avail. The accident had already happened and he couldn’t miracle it away. He laid and willed him self not to cry. He became cold and itchy and couldn’t get up without Aziraphale noticing. Crowley’s shoulders began to shake as he lost control, ugly crying into the pillows to try and muffle the sound as much as possible.

Azriaphale rose slowly, taking in the state of Crowley before gently placing a hand on the demon’s back. He felt horribly. He didn’t even need to ask what was wrong, because he already knew. He saved Crowley any further upset by miracling a fresh diaper in the old one’s place. This, however, did not soothe Crowley as he had anticipated. Crowley began to cry harder, turning so his back was facing the angel. No matter how many times he tried Crowley would not turn over, would not tell Azirpahale what was wrong, and wouldn’t accept his pacifier. Crowley eventually cried himself tired and fell asleep, leaving the angel confused and worried.

Crowley did not need his diaper to be changed. Or at least that’s what he told himself. He did not need Aziraphale’s help and he didn’t need to miracle it away. If he had to wear it he would take care of it himself. Azriaphale shouldn’t even let Crowley’s bodily functions cross his mind, let alone feel responsible for them.

Currently, said demon was standing in a back corner of the book shop, very saggy diaper obvious from a glance. He stood far from anyone’s view, pretending to be very interested in an astrology book. He’d read nearly 60 pages, waiting for the perfect time to sneak upstairs and grab a fresh nappy. He’d changed himself twice now without Aziraphale noticing, and he felt a small bit of pride at that. He set the book down, creeping around to the stairs, when he was surprised by a certain angel standing at the bottom of the staircase.

Crowley jumped slightly, backing away. “Hello dear, where are you going?” Aziriphale asked innocently.

“Ah just going to water the orchids Angel,”

Crowley was lying through his teeth and Aziraphale knew it. He gave Crowley a disappointed look and dismissed him was a simple, “Ah.” He asked if the demon would like any help, knowing full well the answer was no. He was correct in his assumption, and wondered why on earth Crowley was lying to him. Judging by the droop of his jeans he’d put off changing himself for a good couple hours at least. He must have been getting a rash by now, or at the very least, extremely uncomfortable. This combined with the lying left a deep seated feeling of fear and worry in Aziraphale.


	18. Crowley's Tantrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof. Long chapter. I wrote this instead of doing my online classes.

It’s been two days since Crowley had been able to miracle himself clean. He often sat, or rather stood, in his wet diapers for hours on end, deciding to postpone confronting the disgusting deed until it became more bearable than spending another moment in the soaked nappy. It wasn’t as bad as he had anticipated though, Azriaphale didn’t insist on changing him, didn’t even really mention it much, beyond the initial conversation. Crowley figured that the angel didn’t care as long as he kept the wetting to himself. Which he did. He made very sure that Aziraphale never had to think about Crowley’s bladder, let alone see for himself exactly how little control Crowley had over it.

Aziraphale on the other hand was beginning to regret pressing Crowley into wearing the diapers. Crowley would not allow Azirpahale to help him, and he figured pushing on that subject would be too much too fast. Crowley’s strange walk had become more of a waddle over the past couple days, and with the amount of diapers the demon was throwing out, he could not possibly be changing himself as often as needed. On top of his concern for diaper rash, Aziraphale noticed that Crowley would no longer take his pacifier, and would not let Azirpahale rock them in the chair. He was starting to miss the adoring glassy eyed stare he’d become accustomed to when Crowley was in his little space. Crowley had not eaten or slept in two days, and that wouldn’t be concerning if it weren’t for everything else going on. He offered up dinner at the Ritz only to be turned down.

“Maybe somewhere more casual? Your choice Angel just ... not the Ritz today.”

And so an Angel and a Demon were currently sat in a tiny Thai restaurant in SoHo. Aziraphale made sure to choose a place that was small and friendly for littles. Crowley had come down the stairs in a massive hoodie and his usual tight jeans, and Azirpahale suddenly understood why Crowley wanted to go somewhere more casual. The diaper was barely noticeable under the large sweatshirt, but he was happy to see that Crowley was in fact wearing a diaper.

Aziraphale reached across the table and held Crowley’s hand, rubbing it with slow circles of his thumb, while he considered the menu. The demon was happy to see that the restaurant was empty, save for another caregiver and little. He was thankful that had it not been for the diaper bulge nobody could tell he was a little. Crowley had a long and lanky frame that wouldn’t be out of place for a baseline, and features much too sharp for a little. He would have been embarrassed for it had it not been for the fact his unusual features had kept him relatively safe over the years, he could blend in with a crowd of baselines without much effort.

Dinner had gone quite well, the couple who owned the place knew Azirpahale by name and conveniently always had enough money to pay their rent and keep the shop open (and then some). Though half-way through the dinner Crowley wet himself, he tensed up, he couldn’t go to change himself here, he just hoped and prayed to somebody that the sagging of his nappy wouldn’t be too obvious under his big sweater. He sat uncomfortably, downing his glass of wine before summoning the waiter to refill it. His drinking made him less self conscious, but was a huge mistake on his part as he felt the nappy grow wet and hot again on the walk home. He felt the acidicness burning his already chafed thighs. He changed his gait, trying to get some relief. The pain was becoming unbearable and he desperately wished to be home.

Aziraphale noticed Crowley’s ‘wet diaper’ walk and hoped desperately that he would have the common sense to change himself. He was relieved when Crowley immediately darted up the stairs, and came back down in his pajamas and a fresh nappy. He settled into the rocking chair to read, letting Crowley decide for himself if he would like to have some little time tonight. Sadly the demon splayed out on the couch instead, and Aziraphale tried not to look too disappointed.

Crowley couldn’t get comfortable. The nappy crinkled under him, making him even more aware of the discomfort between his legs. He secretly hoped Azirpahale could not here the soft plastic sounds every time he moved. He was becoming tired and irritable, after almost three days now of not being able to sleep or slip into the comfortable floaty feeling of littlespace. He had nearly slipped into the sweet inky blackness of sleep, the sound of Azirpahale turning page after page lulling him into a comfortable quiet.

Crowley, however, was unable to finally fall unconscious, as the he lost control of his bladder once more. He sat up bolt right, frozen from the intense feeling of overwhelming panic. He hurt and he didn’t want to go upstairs to change again. He felt disgusting and helpless. The fact that he burst into tears didn’t help.

Aziraphale jumped at the sudden movement from the couch, setting down his book. Fear struck him, as something was clearly very wrong with Crowley. The demon hardly ever cried out of the blue and this was especially unusual. He noticed Crowley’s diaper sagging significantly and his mind immediately lept to conclusions. “Crowley. Please let me help you. You’re very clearly not doing well changing yourself.”

Crowley shook his head, beginning to cry so hard he dry heaved. Azirpahale stood stunned, unsure what to do. He gently asked again if he could please help Crowley, moving to miracle away the demon’s mess. Crowley did not take well to this, slamming his hands into the couch and screaming. The little laid down on his stomach ugly crying into the cushions and thrashing about. Aziraphale blinked, merely staring in shock. He tried to remember that Crowley was a little and that tantrums were to be expected, especially at his age. This did not mean that he had any better grasp on how to handle this. No matter what he tried it just seemed to make Crowley more upset. The demon beat his hands against the the couch, saying nothing, just scream-crying at a pitch that hurt even Aziraphale’s celestial ears. The angel grew frustrated, sitting down to let Crowley cry himself tired. He wished he could scream as well. He greatly doubted that he was doing the right thing, but Crowley’s crying did eventually fall to a quiet sniffling.

Aziraphale moved to Crowley’s side, kneeling on the ground beside the couch. Crowley turned his snotty face to Azirpahale, reaching up to wipe away a few tears he hadn’t realized were there. Aziraphale slowly picked up Crowley, giving him space in case the tantrum were to start up again. Thankfully Crowley seemed to have tuckered himself out. He laid Crowley out on the bed, going to take off the demon’s trousers. Azriaphale waited for the small nod, and Crowley allowed himself, finally, to be changed.

Aziriphale was shocked to find that the situation was much worse than he anticipated. Red, flakey, irritated skin was present from Crowley’s genitals all the way to his mid thighs. He gasped, immediately healing the very severe diaper rash. Crowley let out a whimper and looked away, distracting himself with some loose threads on his shirt hem. Despite the rash now being gone, Aziraphale couldn’t help but imagine the pain his partner must have been experiencing throughout the last few days. He felt at fault for the mental and physical anguish Crowley had been put through. He cleaned and put a fresh diaper on the demon, tucking him into the bed, pacifier placed neatly in his mouth. Sleep took the little almost immediately, breath coming in soft puffs. Aziriphale cried into Crowley’s hair, eventually falling asleep himself.


	19. Taking the Lead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter! hope ya'll are enjoying bc there's some of Crowley's past subplot in the next few chapters.

Crowley was horrifically embarrassed by his own behavior. He couldn’t believe he’d made Aziraphale change him, couldn’t believe he’d pitched a fit, screamed and cried for far too long. He’d lost control, and his throat was still sore from crying. Azirpahale had sat and watched him throw his tantrum, act like a child and scream. Bore witness to the ugly truth of being a little. Aziraphale’s eyes had been filled with tears, and he could feel the frustration coming off his angel. He was ashamed, and worst of all he was wet again. The bed was empty where Azirpahale had been the night before, leaving him to sit with his own guilt and shame. Crowley couldn’t bring himself to get up and get a fresh diaper, at least the rash was gone, wetting himself was no longer unbearably painful.

He sucked harshly on his pacifier, trying to distract himself from the cold wetness between his legs. He couldn’t resist pulling his blanket out of the ether, figuring Azirpahale was long gone; off thinking up a way to break it to Crowley gently that he couldn’t be his caregiver anymore. Crowley was surprised to see the angel come through the bedroom door with a bottle in hand. He froze up in fear, remaining still as Aziraphale sat beside him on the bed.

Azirpahale had no intention of having a talk with Crowley and upsetting him until well after he was freshly diapered and fed. Crowley had never taken a bottle before, but Aziraphale decided to take the risk and desperately hoped he’d accept one now. Crowley was curled up on one side, a children’s blanket, riddled with holes clutched in his hands. “Crowley dear, may I please change you?” Azirpahale tried to sound as calm as possible, and was delighted when the demon rolled onto his back, allowing Azirpahale to perform the intimate task. Crowley still avoided his gaze, rubbing the blanket over his eyes and forehead instead. Crowley clearly had the comfort item for a very long time and he vaguely wondered why he’d never seen it before.

Crowley was clean, lotioned, and tapped up into a fresh nappy. If Azirpahale insisted on changing him, Crowley would allow it. Azirpahale’s hand stretched out towards him, far too close to the blanket and he shot up, scooting away from the angel. His blankie dematerialized, and he felt himself crying again despite his best efforts. He croaked out, “ ‘m sorry angel. Please don’t throw out blankie. ‘M sorry, I won’t cause any more problems angel.” Crowley was feeling so very small, unable to get his thoughts together.

He was thankful to be pulled up into the angel’s lap, cradled in strong arms. “Crowley why would you ever think I would throw away your blankie?”

Aziraphale’s heart broke at Crowley’s answer, the demon’s voice cracked on every sob, “ ‘cause its dirty and old and full of holes. And because I threw a tantrum and made you mad.”

It was obvious just how little Crowley was feeling based on the way he was acting. Azirpahale tried to match his tone to Crowley’s current age, without minimizing the problem. “You didn’t make me mad, I was so worried about you. You must have been in so much pain.”

“It’s my fault, because you had to take care of me. I can’t even make sure I have a clean nappy and it made you worried. And I threw a fit and I hit the couch, and screamed, and cried, and you were so mad you had to sit across the room. And even after all that, and me acting terrible, you had to change me. You were upset when you were changing me angel and you’re right to be, you shouldn’t have to do that,” Crowley rambled on, lip quivering, though the tears had stopped.

“Crowley, I wasn’t upset because I had to change you. We’re 6,000 year old celestial beings, bodily functions are rather low on the list of things I’m concerned with. I would gladly change you and take care of you whenever you need, I just thought you wouldn’t want me to. I wasn’t upset I had to change you, I was upset that you were very clearly suffering and in pain because I insisted you wear the diapers,” Azirpahale took a breath, speaking faster than he could form a coherent thought. “It’s my fault Crowley, I feel terribly that you’ve been in so much pain and I caused that. You don’t have to wear the diapers anymore if you don’t want to.”

In reality all Crowley had ever wanted was to be taken care of. To be loved. He’d spent many long nights wishing for exactly what Azirpahale was offering, so why was he rejecting it? Crowley seemed to consider for a moment, before pulling Aziraphales hand up to his cheek, “Not your fault Angel. I should have asked for help.”

He still knew the blame was firmly on him but Azriaphale appreciated his baby trying to make him feel better. “Crowley I am so sorry for last night. I didn’t know what to do when you were screaming and throwing yourself around. It was incredibly frustrating my dear boy.”

Crowley felt deep guilt over the last few days rising up in his chest, resolving to just let Azirpahale take the lead and decide what was best. “You did fine angel,” he paused, removing the pacifier so he could speak clearly, “I’ll wear the nappies, but I can’t change them on my own when I’m little like this. I can miracle them clean.”

Azirpahale picked up the bottle, that had remained warm because it was expected to, and held it out to Crowley. He took it without any fuss. “If you don’t mind I think I would prefer to change you manually. I don’t mind and I read it’s important for littles of your age to have that bonding time,” Crowley blushed bright red and nodded, snuggling into Azirpahale’s chest, “Now if you don’t mind I would like to give you this bottle if you’ll let me.”


	20. The Bottle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and Fluffy today. The first chapter of my little verse Broadchurch fic is up! Go and check it out if you like this fic.

Taking the bottle was awkward at first. He couldn’t figure out how to get enough out, and the angle felt all wrong. Aziraphale had him laid out, head on one thick thigh and body straight to the side. The angel held the bottle with one hand and stroked his hair with the other, gently encouraging him. He felt warm and loved, despite looking a bit silly like this.

Crowley seemed to finally get it as he began to slowly suckle and swallow. The glassy eyed look that Azirphale so loved had returned to his demon’s eyes. He felt his heart swell (in a metaphorical sense he knew that was illogical) with love for Crowley, even as the demon’s eyes began to flutter shut and long thin fingers worked in and out of holes in the tattered piece of fabric he had called ‘blankie’. Adorably, the blanket had suddenly reappeared shortly after Crowley’s glazed over look had. Aziraphale heard a faint hissing sound and miracled Crowley clean, just this once. Crowley fell asleep before he could even finish the rest of his bottle.

Aziraphale sat in silence for a long while just staring at Crowley with adoration. He continued to card his hands through the silky hair ontop of Crowley’s head. He pressed small kisses to the sides of Crowley’s face. Azirpahale noted that Crowley had begun to take on a slight babyish scent now that he’d been off the suppressants for awhile.

When Crowley woke up his angel was still smiling down at him and he couldn’t help but return the gesture, reaching up for a hug. Azirpahale glady scooped him up, rubbing his back soothingly. He vaguely registered that he was wet again. Aziraphale changed him and he stared up at the angel with that same glassy eyed stare he’d fallen asleep with. Azirpahale quitely dresses him, pulling him into his usual black skinny jeans and tight T-shirt. He was thankful when a jacket was tied around his waist to hide the diaper bulge. Shockingly Azriaphale slid a pair of round sunglasses onto his face, he found he rather liked them; he hadn’t worn this style since the 60s and it suited his features well.

“Crowley dear it’s nearly half past 11, would you mind terribly coming downstairs with me so I can open shop?” Crowley nodded softly, wishing he could say no. Azirpahale looked delighted, and suddenly he was being carried to the kitchen. “Let’s have a little lunch first then shall we?”

Azirpahale set Crowley down at the table, pulling out the eggs and bread. He’d never liked miracling up food, it never tasted the same. In a matter of minutes Azirpahale had two portions of eggs and toast on the table, and a sippy cup of juice for Crowley. To his delight the demon didn’t resist being fed, eating every bit Aziraphale brought up to his mouth.

Crowley finished eating happily, much to his embarrassment he’d gotten egg yolk all down his front. Azirpahale on the other hand found it quite endearing. A wet wipe was used to clean his chin and cheeks and he was picked up. He briefly considered leaving the sippy cup behind; however, suddenly having second thoughts he leaned down to grab it.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I haven't forgotten about ya'll. I am so sorry for the lack of updates I didn't even realize it'd been a week since my last update.

Crowley made a move for the sofa, planning on settling in and watching The Golden Girls while Aziraphale worked. Unfortunately Aziraphale caught his hand before he could make it, “My dear boy I would like for you to come out into the shop so I can see you.” Crowley blinked at him, wishing desperately he could say no. The last thing he wanted to do was be little where someone could see him, but he’d learned his lesson about listening to the angel. He had resolved to be the least fussy little on earth, as of just now. He nodded, feeling a lump of anxiety rise up in his throat.

Aziraphale had set up a spot at the back of the shop for Crowley, hidden from view. A large beanbag chair rest in a corner filled with obscure astronomy books; blankets and pillows piled up on top of it. Crowley seemed to visibly relax, seeing he didn’t have to be at the front of the shop where any old person could see him. He placed a gentle kiss to the little’s forehead, watching him plop down into the bean bag as the shop was miraculously open for business. 

Crowley anxiously sucked down his juice, setting the cup on the shelf behind him. He tried to self soothe, sucking his thumb ardently. The blankets in his little nest didn’t hold a candle to blankie, but he would have never dreamed of getting such a precious item out in the bookshop. His eyes started to drift shut, sleep taking back over. Despite a few customers milling about the store, by some small miracle, none of them were interested in anything further back than the prophecies section. 

Aziraphale periodically checked on Crowley, feeling much more at ease having the demon within eyesight. After about 3 hours of having the shop open, the steady trickle of customers came to a halt. He took this opportunity to check on Crowley. He smiled placing a hand on the sleeping demon’s bum, the wet squish confirmed Crowley would be needing a change. He gently roused Crowley, carrying him to the back room. The baby blinked sleepily up at him, and he smiled wide down at him in return. 

A sleepy demon was laid out on the floor, being freed from the confines of his tight jeans. Crowley looked at his surroundings, realizing he was receiving a diaper change in the bookshop. His hand shot down to stop Aziraphale, wriggling to get up. He didn’t want to be changed in the bookshop, let alone on the ground, where anybody could walk in and see. Aziraphale held him down with one strong hand on his stomach. He panicked and struggled, starting to cry. 

Aziraphale frantically took his hand off of Crowley, doubting that he had hurt him, but the fear popping up none the less. “Crowley dear, whatever is the matter?”

In his panic Crowley forgot his promise to himself to be the least fussy baby in existence. He began to cry in earnest, unsure how to stop, how to say what was wrong. Everything felt so insanely bad and scary and the fact that he could visibly see his angel becoming frustrated only made it worse. The tears were coming and he couldn’t make them stop.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley into his lap, giving a silent prayer that the sobbing would die down. He could deal with the diaper changes, he could deal with the feeding and the bathing, he could even deal with a cry once in awhile but he’d no idea how to deal with the frequency with which Crowley was having tantrums. He felt awfully. Guilty that he didn’t know what to do, and didn’t want to be dealing with this right now. If Crowley wouldn’t let himself be changed he would have to miracle it done.

Despite now being dry and in a fresh diaper Crowley continued his fit. Aziraphale tsked, “Come now Crowley that’s enough.” The guilt set in and Crowley gave a few last sniffles before allowing Aziraphale to carry him back to the bookshop. The saddened and angry look the angel gave him made him want to crawl out of his skin. He curled in on himself, sucking his thumb. As soon as he was sure Aziraphale was out of sight he started his crying once more. Tomorrow he would he think of an excuse to leave. This situation was tearing them apart, and he needed to go back to his apartment and stay there until he could get it together and Aziraphale wasn’t sick of him anymore.

Meanwhile Aziraphale picked up the shop phone, and while he didn’t dial a single number it still connected him to exactly who he needed.


	22. Aziraphale's Phone Call

A gruff voice answered on the other side of the phone, as Aziraphale stole a peak at his demon. “Ah Sgt. Shadwell, is Madam Tracy there by any chance?”

“Ay. The jezebel is home. Who’s askin’?”

“It’s the angel Aziraphale.”

“Ah!” There was some movement from the other side of the phone, “Tracy some southern lad on the phone for ya!”

There was more rustling as Madam Tracy could be heard pushing Shadwell out of the way. She answered the phone just as cheery as always, “Hello Angel Aziraphale, good to hear from you again deary.”

He smiled, giving a short wave to a man that’d walked into the shop before going back to the phone. “Yes it’s good to hear from you as well! I actually was calling because I wanted to talk to you about a particular .... problem I’m having.”

“Is it about your demon friend?”

“Well yes... actually it is,” Aziraphale stole another look at Crowley, if he overheard that Aziraphale was telling people their business he would not be happy. “Well you see the thing is, Crowley happens to be a little.”

The angel was confused by the laugh he got in response, “Well I could have told you that one.”

Had it been that obvious? It rather seemed like nobody else had chanced a guess at Crowley’s condition before now. “Oh...” he let out a sigh, thinking back on a few of their interactions with humans over the years.

“So what seems to be the problem with the wee one?”

“Ah yes!” Aziraphale came back ‘round to the conversation, “Well Crowley’s rather had a problem with tantrums lately. And I’m afraid I’m not ... equipped, to deal with them. You see, I’m not a caregiver, and I’m not exactly well suited to it. I’m afraid I’m not doing right by the dear boy.”

“Well do you love him?”

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale answered without thinking, only then realizing what he’d just said. Of course. Of course he loved Crowley. He’d loved Crowley from the moment they’d met. He loved Crowley and he’d certainly told him that. On a few occasions. And he loved Crowley when he was little too. But love was a strange word to describe what they felt for each other after millennia of tip-toeing around the subject. It only set in now that he was professing his love for Crowley so openly to someone ... not Crowley.

“Well then you are suited to taking care of him regardless of your classification,” she seemed to consider for a moment, “So why don’t you tell me a bit more about why you really called.”

“Well...” he deliberated on where to start, fidgeting with a small pad of paper on the counter. “Crowley was taking suppressants for an awfully long time,” Madam Tracy could be heard giving a sad ‘oh’ on the line. “Yes,” he confirmed, tone matching hers. “I made him stop taking them and he seems .... I don’t know... depressed? He doesn’t really play or cuddle, he just sleeps. He’s rather testy and I frankly just don’t know how to handle the tantrums. I understand that he’s very little and all but...”

Tracy tsked, wondering how a being as old as time itself could be so naive, “Well it sounds like you’ve answered your own question dear. If he’s just coming off the suppressants he’ll settle into being little soon. Especially if he’s-” 

She was cut off by a soft, “Fuck- I’ll have to call you back Ms. Tracy,” and with that, the line went dead. She stared at the phone for a minute before shrugging and hanging it up on the wall.


	23. Customers are the Worst

A deer in headlights. That’s what Crowley felt like at least; frozen between the massive bookshelves and the seemingly equally massive man. He was tall and muscular and staring straight down at Crowley, standing directly in the way of Aziraphale’s line of sight.

The man had his nose turned up, sniffing the air intently. The man was clearly a caregiver, Crowley knew what caregivers smelled like despite having never had one. And this one clearly knew what littles smelled like.

He crouched down, approaching Crowley like he was come kind of wild animal. His faux-sweet tone of voice made the demon’s stomach turn. “Hi little one. What are you doing back here all alone?” He said, well and thoroughly in Crowley’s space now.

Crowley shrank away, back pressed up against the bookcase, giving as much space between himself and this stranger as possible. His heart beat wildly and unnecessarily as he tried desperately to get a peek at Aziraphale. His voice seemed to be frozen with fear, he couldn’t find the words to tell this creep to back off. Something about being cornered by an unfamiliar caregiver in what was supposed to be his home, where he should be the safest, was almost as bad as the outright violence.

Big arms were suddenly around him and he was being lifted into the air. Crowley kicked and hit the man, a scream ripping it’s way out of his throat. He was about to let out another scream when the mystery attacker was thrown clean across the room. At the same time Crowley fell to the floor and landed squarely into a squishy diaper.

“What on Earth do you think you’re doing?” The angel shouted, his voice taking on a celestial edge. Azirpahale scooped up Crowley, tucking him protectively under one arm.

The man scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with shock. “What do you mean what am I doing? That little there was sitting in a corner by himself crying. What kind of caregiver would stand by and just let that happen? I might as well call the police on you, leaving a little without a caregiver like that, it’s practically abuse.”

“He’s got a caregiver,” he rebutted without thinking.

“Oh, didn’t smell one on him. You could have fooled me,” the caregiver said snickering. “He needs a _real_ caregiver. Expect a visit from protective services.” The shop door slammed closed behind him, the sign in the window miraculously flipping from open to closed.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

The lock clicking shut was deafening in the silence, Aziraphale stood holding Crowley in one arm, trying to process what had just happened. Maybe that man was right. The more Azirpahale got to thinking, what kind of caregiver _did_ allow something like that to happen? What kind of caregiver would have let their little sit in a corner all on their own for hours on end? What kind of caregiver couldn’t even handle a measly little tantrum? Crowley very clearly wasn’t happy here like this. Aziraphale hadn’t even thought to get him any toys, or a pram, or a crib. What kind of caregiver could he ever really be?__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Aziraphale apologized repeatedly for letting his focus slip and allowing someone to come across him. “ ‘s okay Angel I know you didn’t mean to,” was Crowley’s response every time. 

He fed Crowley dinner by hand, cutting up little bits of chicken for his little. Afterwards he laid Crowley out in his lap, settling down in the rocking chair to read the demon a bed time story. Crowley passed out before he could even finish a bottle. Despite taking extra good care of his baby and tucking blankie in beside the sleeping demon, he still could not get that caregiver’s words out of his head.

Perhaps Crowley _would_ be better off with an actual caregiver.__


	24. Just an update :>

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to let y’all know I’m still updating regularly I just keep rewriting this chapter bc I hate it. I’ll delete this “chapter” later. Thank you for being patient sorry it’s taking so long.

Seriously the chapter I keep rewriting is turning out straight up bungus.


	25. Aziraphale's Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so so much for being patient and kind <3. This chapter is not the best but it gets the point across.

Crowley avoided the bookshop like the plague. Three days spent at his apartment, playing the guitar (he’d use the term playing lightly, he was getting pretty rusty after a few months), lounging on his throne, and generally being a nuisance to the greater London area. Frankly he was getting bored and lonely. He had no idea what he did before moving in with Aziraphale besides, well... pining after Aziraphale.

Three days and all Aziraphale had seen of Crowley was a few flashes of bright red hair going in and out the door. He couldn’t blame the demon after all, the bookshop must seem unsafe to him now. He may just have to show Crowley that not all humans are dangerous and ignorant. On the other hand it might just be best to finally get back to house hunting, though he doubted Crowley would even want to move in with him still. The last couple of months had been a whirl wind that left Aziraphale uncertain for only the third time in his 6,000 year existence. The second had been upon learning that heaven was a war mongering establishment devoid of any true goodness. And the first had been... well... Rome. The oysters. Some part deep down in Aziraphale knew Crowley hadn’t let go of that.

The fact of the matter was that there were great swaths of Crowley left unknown, and he couldn’t figure out how to unlock them. He worried it would remain that way. He’d let every part of himself on display and yet Crowley still hid away, retreating back to his apartment to do god-somebody knows what. He hated to admit it, but this was a problem he couldn’t handle on his own.

Madam Tracy had come to the book shop at a moments notice, sunny as ever. She greeted Azirpahale like an old friend, patting his hand gently as they sat down.

“And?” She said, glancing at him over the rim of her tea cup. She’d been patient while he explained the issue (it took in total about 3 hours), but to her it sounded simple. 

“I think he’s still upset about Rome,” Azirpahale wetted his lips, hesitant to reveal his true colors. The fact of the matter was that deep down to his core he was insensitive. “I told what I thought was a joke. I said I thought maybe in a different life we could have been lovers,” he smiled wistfully, “I thought it quite funny at the time.”

“And what happened then deary?”

“He wanted more; I told him he was being ridiculous. That an angel and a demon could never be anything more than that. That it was all a joke. And anyways, I was thoroughly convinced demons couldn’t love at the time so what did it matter?”

Aziraphale sighed at madam Tracy’s lack of response, continuing on, “Well obviously I was wrong.”

“Did you tell him that? That you were wrong?”

“No.”

“Then there’s your problem.”

“So what? What can I do about that now?”

“Apologize! Admit you were wrong,” She rolled her eyes, as if the answer had been right in front of him all along.

He was quiet for a moment, staring down into his cup. He’d never truly apologized to anyone and meant it. Maybe he was wrong about having put himself out there for Crowley.

After several moments of silence Madam Tracy interrupted his train of thought, advising him to also buy Crowley some gifts to make Crowley more comfortable being little. “You have to give him something to do or he’ll get bored! Wouldn’t you?”

“Well yes ... but I don’t even know what he’d like...” he trailed off, feeling self conscious about how incompetent he must seem.

“Well-“ Tracy had been about to tell him to simply try and maybe give him a light smack to the head, when said demon appeared directly in front of them.

“Oh Crowley!” Aziraphale would be upset that Crowley just miracled himself into the bookshop where any human could see, but madam Tracy didn’t seem phased at all. In fact she looked down right delighted.

“Oh didn’t realize we had guests, sorry angel,” Crowley lent down and kissed Azirpahale’s hand, maintaining his cool composure despite his very clearly sagging diaper. “Nice to see you again...” He trailed off, having forgotten the woman’s name.

“So did you get sick of gluing coins to the sidewalk already?”

“Oh angel you know I’d never get sick of that old trick” he smiled fiendishly, moving to run off again.

“Don’t you want to sit with us?” Aziraphale looked deeply hurt, leaning forward like he would run after Crowley if he chose to go.

He looked back and forth between their guest and his partner, “ngk, ok.” He flopped down onto the sofa beside the angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've honestly been going through it (I broke up with my partner of 5+ years) so I've been doing a lot of sad bitch things. But sad bitch hours are no more!


	26. Aziraphale's Attempt at an Apology

Sitting down with Madam Tracy (as Crowley had come to learn that was her name), hadn’t been nearly as painful as he’d anticipated. Crowley never really did enjoy sitting with humans for longer than absolutely necessary, but Tracy provided for entertaining company. In fact both he and Aziraphale had lost track of time, and it was long after dark by the time she left. Crowley had offered her a ride home but she insisted on taking her moped.

Aziraphale hopped off the couch, having forgotten all about Crowley’s wet diaper, and insisted on changing Crowley the moment Madam Tracy left. As he healed the little’s chafed thighs and rubbed lotion into the long limbs, he noticed Crowley looking away, refusing to make eye contact.

“Mm,” Crowley responded to Aziraphale saying his name as he was zipped up into a fleecy pajama set. The set was much too babyish for his liking but he pushed down the urge to protest, content to just be back home. He was wrapped in a blanket and settled in Aziraphale’s lap, where he found a pacifier and his blanket suddenly in his grip. Crowley slipped the pacifer between his lips, expecting to be put to bed immediately.

“I’m afraid I should apologize to you my dear boy.” Aziraphale sat him up instead, looking him in the eyes with an intensity he wasn’t sure he’s seen before.

“ ‘s okay angel,” he answered.

The chuckle the angel gave was good natured, despite being directed at Crowley, “I haven’t even said what I’m apologizing for yet dear,” he said, brushing pieces of bright red hair behind his baby’s ear. “I’m sorry about Rome. I’m afraid it was rather insensitive of me. I shouldn’t-“

The demon barked out a laugh, interrupting aziraphale. “Angel that’s not-“

“No. Let me finish Crowley.” The demon shrunk down at the use of his real name. “I shouldn’t have led you on. I shouldn’t have rejected you again and again when you made it obvious how you felt. But please don’t punish me any longer, my love. I want to take care of you. I want to know all the parts of you.”

A deafening silence overtook the room, only broken by Crowley quietly croaking, “Punish you?”

“Yes. I want to love you in all the ways you’ll let me and yet there is so much of you I don’t know. Why won’t you just let me in?”

Another silence followed, Aziraphale stared at the demon’s face scrunched up in thought. The pacifier had been removed to make way for clear speech. “There’s a lot about myself that I don’t even know. How can I possibly let you in? There’s no- secret. There’s no hidden truth for you to unlock. You know everything I know.”

“What on Earth do you mean Crowley?”

“I told you, I can’t remember certain things. There’s huge gaps. I remember what made me fell. I remember making alpha Centauri, asking the questions that I fell for. Everything for the first bit after the fall is hazy and everything before is just... gone.”

“Is it like that for everyone? All the ones who fell that is.”

“Not as far as I know. I’m really not sure, Angel.”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to think. He hummed quietly trying to form a question. “God never answers you when you call on her does she?” He ignored the shocked face he was given, “I hear you talk to her sometimes.”

“God doesn’t give answers Aziraphale. Only questions,” he tried not to sound bitter. “I’m trying Aziraphale.”

“I know,” the angel laid himself and his little down, knowing when to drop the subject. “I’m still sorry about Rome.”

“I know,” Crowley parroted, going back to sucking on his pacifier intently. He leaned into the angel’s hand, not unlike a cat, subtly encouraging him to continue touching his hair. 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but bring the subject back up against his better judgment, a question nagging at the back of his head, “Why do you still have faith in her?”

“If you don’t have faith in something then what do you have?” Crowley said, voice slurred with sleep. “Not sure I have faith in her so much as just in general.”

Soon Crowley’s eyes were dropping shut and Aziraphale found himself struck with an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aye I'm not sure I'm satisfied with this chapter but I can't help but touch on Crowley's faith bc he canonically tALKS DIRECTLY TO GOD.


	27. The World's Worst Gift

He knew it was ridiculous, but Crowley was absolutely devastated. He reached out to touch blankie, only to find his hands empty. He tore the room apart looking for his blankie, but the scrap of fabric, as well as his angel were nowhere to be found. Crowley brought his pacifier back up to his mouth, teetering down the stairs, careful not to let his wet diaper rub his already raw skin.

“Ah there you are dear boy! Finally awake,” Aziraphale gave a small kiss to Crowley’s, forehead, carrying him back upstairs to be changed.

Crowley pulled out his pacifier with a satisfying pop, “Blankie?” He asked.

“Oh yes!” Aziraphale said as though the most important object in the world (to Crowley at least) had just slipped his mind. “I have a surprise for you downstairs once we get you changed.”

Aziraphale had thrown out Blankie. He was sure of it. In an instant he regretted having ever let his prized possession come into harms way; his mind running through endless scenarios where the surprise involved his beloved blanket being thrown away or replaced. His thoughts continued to spiral as he was laid down on the bed and divested of his pajamas. The most alarming thing was that the angel didn’t even bat an eyelash upon seeing their bedroom, which at this point looked like a tornado had its way with the place.

Crowley sucked anxiously on his pacifier as he was put back into his pajamas and scooped up off the bed. “I hope you don’t mind the pajamas dear, I thought we could stay in and relax today. Maybe watch Golden Girls?” Aziraphale said as he was sat down at the kitchen table and served a pancake that smiled eerily up at him with a blueberry mouth and strawberry eyes. Aziraphale hated the TV. He would never watch it unless for Crowley’s sake. The whole ordeal was entirely suspicious and only added to his anxiety.

Despite being riddled with nerves he ate the pancake gladly, allowing himself to be fed and then given a bottle. As he finished gulping down the last of his drink, Aziraphale asked him to close his eyes, waving a hand to ensure Crowley wouldn’t be able to peek. There was rustling and the demon felt the miracle that held his eyes shut fade away. Somehow it was much worse than he ever imagined.

It technically was blankie. Minus the holes and tears. Evidence of years of love gone in an instant, leaving a fresh blanket that was not quite his, despite its best efforts. “Oh,” he whispered. Crowley felt like he had lost an old friend, “Thank you.” He stared at the blanket, feeling hollow. He wanted to be grateful but he felt like he had been punched in the gut. He threw the blanket to the side, unable to even look at the imposter.

Aziraphale blinked in shock, flabbergasted by Crowley’s sudden indifference to the beloved Blankie. “W-well that’s not all,” he stumbled over his words, picking up Crowley and bringing him down into the bookshop.

On the ground in the bookshop rest a huge plastic bin, Crowley was set down in front of it and urged to lift the lid. Inside the bin were wooden blocks. Loads of them. He looked up at Azirpahale and pointed at his chest, silently asking if he would be allowed to use them.

Aziraphale answered in a nod, giving a smile that practically glowed. Crowley tried his best to enjoy the gift, tried his best to play, but he couldn’t seem to figure out how. Playing seemed awkward, like he was putting on a show. He consturcted tower after tower, trying to get the Blankie situation off his mind, but it didn’t quite feel right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these chapters are slower paced and seem like filler but I promise they are building to something bigger and the next few chapters are going to be faster paced.


	28. An Eye Out for Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really reached deep into the depths of my mushy brain for this one. Hope ya'll enjoy.
> 
> I have an art instagram now! If ya'll wanna follow me on there its @Aziraphales_chubby_cheeks

Crowley felt as though the fog had finally cleared. After weeks of feeling like he was swimming in molasses, and days of trying his best to play without much success, he felt like he could finally think clearly again. Crowley sat in front of the blocks and the ideas finally came. Building, and tearing down, and coming up with stories in his head for the plain wooden blocks. It was finally falling into place and he barely even noticed the angel watching him. He wasn’t acting, he wasn’t self conscious, he wasn’t putting on a show. He was just playing. Effortlessly enjoying himself and having fun.

After what seemed like days of Crowley moping and being incredibly testy it was like a switch had been flipped. Suddenly Crowley was more than happy and excited to play, be cuddled and rocked, and laugh at all the silly faces Aziraphale knew how to make. And yet... he still would not look at Blankie. Crowley would not hold or touch or rub the newly repaired article. In fact Blankie had been relegated to the ether not long after being fixed. 

Currently Aziraphale was stood in the doorway to the back room, silently watching Crowley play. Aziraphale had gotten him some dolls as well, and he seemed to be enjoying the toys throughly. He looked natural, almost like this was how he was supposed to be all along (which of course he was). 

Crowley finally noticed Aziraphale’s presence and looked up from his toys, smiling. Something in the demon’s eyes had changed over the last few days. The childlike innocence and trust Crowley had in the early days could be seen there again now. He was gathered up in the angel’s arms and carried upstairs, where he was put in fresh clothes and peppered with kisses. Laying on his back in the bed, he wondered what was taking his angel so long to divest him of his clothing.

Normally the demon wouldn’t take kindly to having his diaper changed without a certain scrap of fabric clenched in his bony fist. Aziraphale made a snap decision, reaching into the ether and materializing Blankie, figuring that perhaps Crowley merely needed a little coaxing to return to his old habit. 

Crowley racked his brain, trying to recall what the signal for ‘This is not okay’ was. Two fingers. He held up two fingers, something he’d never done before, signally for everything to stop. He lay stunned and angry in the bed. Looking up at Aziraphale’s worried expression. 

When he finally regained the ability to speak Crowley spat out, “Don’t pull my things out of the void,” more cross than he had meant to. “It’s already bad enough that you ruined it, leave it be,” He blinked, regretting what he said as soon as it left his mouth. At a moment’s notice he’d gone from a pleasantly floaty state to incredibly irritable. 

“I’m sorry dear,” Aziraphale said, the bed dipping down as he sat. “Did you not like what I did to Blankie?” Crowley was quiet for a beat, shaking his head softly. “I can return it to the way it was if you like,” another nod followed and Aziraphale was handed the piece of fabric. 

A simple hand placed over it, and there was Blankie, just the way Crowley liked it. Rubbed down spots, and loose threads all back exactly where they should be. He held it up to the light, inspecting it thoroughly. He felt incredibly foolish, seeing now, how easily he could have had his blanket back. He hugged it to his chest, rubbing a well worn spot to his cheek. The sweet relief didn’t last long though. 

“Crowley, can you now please tell me what is wrong?”

He hesitated, deciding to be honest despite the consequences. “I didn’t like that you touched Blankie. I asked you not to take it away,” Crowley forced himself to be a bit bigger, facing up to an ongoing problem, “And Angel, you’ve really got to stop touching my things, I don't go around touching your books or pulling your things out of the ether.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale huffed out. It was only then that he realized how incredibly daft he’d been. He’d assumed his relationship with Crowley meant that that was okay; however, in hindsight he now realized that one’s possessions and personal space were quite important. Aziraphale found that upon thinking about it, he would be quite cross if Crowley suddenly pulled his flaming sword from the void and started doing things with it. “Oh, dear. Forgive me, It would appear I've been incredibly daft, Crowley.”

“Anthony.”

“What?”

Crowley flushed deep red, fidgeting with the blanket in his lap, “Call me Anthony. At least when ‘m little”

Aziraphale smiled, taking that as an acceptance of his apology, “I think we can manage that.” In a matter of minutes he had Anthony happily splashing in the bath. He watched with what could only be described as ‘heart eyes’. He enjoyed the soft relaxed atmosphere in the bathroom, for a bit before he was pulled back to reality.

Something had changed. Aziraphale could feel it in the shift of the air and the chill in his bones. Crowley apparently was unaffected by what had just occurred. He stared down where Anthony was sat playing blissfully unaware, some bath toys that had not existed mere moments ago floating in the water. Aziraphale opened one of his celestial eyes, looking for any sign of danger, but there was just nothing. He shivered, a deep unease settling into every corner of his being. He deeply hoped it was only Adam or one of the angels. He hadn’t told Crowley, but after Armageddon fell through he’d put up an alarm system of sorts. Fearing the worst, he’d put one of his eyes where he could see anything more sinister than a girl scout coming from miles away.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the nagging panic. He pulled his baby out of the tub, throwing a towel over his head. Crowley let out a barrage of giggles as Azirpahale rubbed his hair dry. “Anthony dear, could you go get in bed with Blankie? I will meet you there in a second,” he said after the lotioning and the dressing we’re done. Crowley obeyed without much fuss, and Aziraphale heard the bed squeak from the other room.

There’d been something for a brief moment. A little blip of light on the other end of the city that was gone as soon as it came. He searched anxiously for anything, but all appeared well in London. Needless to say, he would not be taking part in the cherished pastime of sleep this evening.


	29. Chapter 29

Crowley spent most nights now plagued with nightmares. It was rare he ever dreamed; however, since the apocalypse fell through he had dreamed almost every night. But for the last few weeks he seems to only have one dream. The nightmare with Aziraphale and the other angel occurred with regularity now, becoming a point of contention for himself and his partner.

The more often he had the dream the clearer the man’s face got. Something about it was familiar but he couldn’t exactly place it. He’d tried describing them to Aziraphale, to no avail. It couldn’t have been any of the fallen. Crowley would have recognized them, even as angels. No, he knew that angel from somewhere else. He scoured his memories for something, anything- a little spark to light up the bigger picture.

“Crowley?”

Apparently he’d been scowling at his pile of blocks rather than actually playing with them. He set down the one he’d had clenched in his fist, stretching out his fingers to return blood to the tips. “Yeah?” He said softly, only briefly taking his mind of the task at hand.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Crowley shook his head, absentmindedly twirling his finger in Blankie’s fabric.

“Are you hungry? Feeling up to lunch at the Ritz?”

Anthony found he rather was feeling up to lunch at the Ritz, despite floating in the strange space in between little and big. It could go either way at this point, but they hadn’t been out to lunch since the time Crowley threw a fit right at their table. He figured he could pull it together and make it up to his angel with a nice date. “Yeah, I think I would like that Angel. I’ll just get dressed and warm up the Bentley before we head out.”

Aziraphale nearly asked if Crowley was okay to drive today, but held his tongue. He had to trust his partner knew his limits. The air shifted slightly and he was pleased to see Crowley suddenly in fresh clothes and noticeably, a fresh nappy as well. He smiled, taking the outstretched hand he was offered.

It felt good to have have the steering wheel of the Bentley back in his hands. He missed the way it glided through his hand on the turns. He’d even missed the music to be honest. He hummed along softly to ‘Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy’, taking Aziraphale’s hand in his and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, entirely in his element in the car. He could no longer see the sharp contrast between Crowley when he was little and as he was now. He stared, probably a bit too long at how the sun made the demon’s hair appear to glow.“We’re here angel. Keep it in your pants,” Crowley snarked, snapping him out of his trance.

Aziraphale blushed and grumbled as he got out of the car. Dinner went swimmingly, and they returned home pleasantly buzzed, and a bit wet on Crowley’s part.

Crowley allowed the angel to change his diaper and give him a bottle of tea. Even though it was a bit awkward to be babied while he was big, Aziraphale seemed to enjoy it, and it soothed him gently back into little space. Not long after, he was laid down for a nap, snoozing blissfully on the floor in front on his toys. Aziraphale made a mental note to pick up some stuffed animals from the store.

Aziraphale could feel the shift in the air, using his eye to scan the area. He saw them before they even reached the bookshop. He looked down at Crowley’s sleeping form and said a silent prayer.


	30. A Proposition

Gabriel stood in the doorway, a smug look that slowly turned into a cold smile spread across his face. “Aziraphale,” he said, hands clasped I front of him.

Surprisingly Gabriel was alone, which was almost more alarming than if he’d come with the Sandalphon. Aziraphale shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing nervously towards the back room.

Aziraphale’s anxiety only seemed to please the archangel more. “I’ve got a little assignment for you. Well, more so for your little demon friend than you, but you get it, right?” Gabriel put a stressed emphasis on ‘little’, effectively getting the point across that he knew about Crowley’s classification.

“I don’t work for your lot anymore. And Crowley most certainly doesn’t either,” Aziraphale clenched his fist, feeling the hilt of his sword materialize. “I suggest you leave before I’ve decided I might have to smite you,” he held the blade aloft, but he was confident if it came down to it he would win in a fight. He was a warrior after all, built for fighting, and while Gabriel may have been an archangel he was built for other things. Sitting around filling out paper work mostly, these days.

Gabriel knew Aziraphale wasn’t going to use violence and was certain that there would be no smiting today. That had been the whole reason he felt comfortable showing up here alone. “I’m not on official business, Aziraphale. Consider this a personal favor,” he held out an envelope, sealed with wax. “Have your little demon friend take this to Beelzebub, and that’s it. Easy.”

Azirpahale glances at the evelope with suspicion, taking it gingerly. “And what is it?”

“Confidential,” Gabriel gave an almost unnaturally wide smile.

“And why exactly do you expect us to be keen on doing you a ‘personal favor’?”

“Because if you don’t,” he stepped in closer, causing Aziraphale to raise the sword instinctively. Gabriel didn’t flinch even a millimeter, “I think I might just have to get the word out about your _little_ demon. I think the four horsemen, especially war, would be quite interested to hear that bit of information. Not to mention the other demons.”__

_ _Gabriel patted Aziraphale’s hand, and looked up over his shoulder. A soft voice could be heard from the back room, “Angel?”_ _

_ _“All is well dear. Go back to sleep,” Aziraphale called out unconvincingly. A rustling and footsteps could be heard from the back room, and Aziraphale prayed he would just stay back there._ _

_ _“Better make up your mind soon. Sounds like he didn’t believe that,” just as Gabriel finished speaking, Crowley toddled into the room._ _

_ _He stopped dead in his tracks realizing just who the angel in his dreams was. He didn’t know how he hadn’t put two and two together, but as soon as he saw the archangel he knew he was the one. The most troubling bit was that Crowley had no idea _why_ he was in his dreams. Prior to Armageddon he had never known Gabriel- at least as a demon that is.___ _

_ _ _ _Aziraphale saw something strange twitch across Gabriel’s face as Crowley entered the room. “Well. You know where to find me. Let me know when you’ve decided,” his voice had a strange lilt to it as he spoke. He seemed to debate for a few moments before he finally turned to the door. “And good to see you too, _Raphael_ .”___ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mm... well


	32. A Crisis of Faith

It’d been two months since Armageddon. Two months since Gabriel had to break it to the other angels that there would be no war. Not any time soon at least. And he was _bored_.__

_ _Although he did have some interesting new information. His first time actually seeing the demon Crowley had been at Tadfield. Gabriel recognized him almost immediately, but the demon clearly didn’t remember him. Not that that was to be expected._ _

_ _He looked over to Beelzebub, who seemed to only show irritation. He wouldn’t exactly call Beelzebub his friend, after all they hadn’t spoken since she’d fallen, but he could see the recognition in her eyes. However, a split second later that recognition was replaced with what Gabriel thought was an appropriate amount of disgust._ _

_ _He had no way of being sure, but Beelzebub had to have known. There was no way she’d recognize him and not Raphael. But if she did know, if she did recognize him, why would she not keep him close? Why would he be in Aziraphale’s care?_ _

_ _About two months after Armageddon he’d found out what ‘The Great Plan’ was going forward. The four horsemen were after Aziraphale and Crowley- Raphael; that Heaven had nothing to do with, but if the four horsemen didn’t do their job they’d wait. They would wait as long as it took._ _

_ _Ever since that day Gabriel had been having what one might call a crisis of faith. For the first time in his existence he wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was. He wasn’t actually sure he’d ever done the _right_ thing in his life. The righteous thing, yes. The good thing, yes. The ineffable thing, absolutely. The holy thing, all the time. But as he had come to realize, right was subjective.___ _

_ _ _ _Looking back on it he’d probably more often than not done the wrong thing, albeit what he was supposed to do- if you asked the other angels. He remembered in the early days, when god would talk to them, being praised for his actions. But god was distant and every day her love felt a little more faint. He no longer was sure that he was in the right on that one, or anything anymore._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _But he could be in the right now. He could protect Raphael, even if he hadn’t before. He deliberated for weeks on end before finally deciding to write the letter. But it seemed there would be only one way to get the letter to Beelzebub. And that was through Raphael._ _ _ _


	33. Just an update

Hey, I know it’s been a long time since I’ve updated. This story isn’t abandoned, and I do plan on updating it soon. I know y’all are bored at home but please understand some of us still have to work and have online classes. Don’t get me wrong I’m grateful to have a job and know I’m going to be able to pay my bills but this is a very rough time.

I also was in a very severe car accident in which my car was totaled at the beginning of March, and since car sales are “inessential” where I am I haven’t been able to buy a new car and haven’t had a stable way to get to work. I am also experiencing a lot of health problems right now due to the car accident and from before the car accident.

I was in a production of The Vagina Monologues that took up a huge amount of time in January and February. And a whirlwind romance that didn’t end so well that made my mental health take a hit but like 😬 y’all know how it is.

I’ve been getting a lot of messages on tumblr and stuff about my stories and I am so grateful you guys are still interested and it makes me so glad you all have enjoyed them. I’m writing a bit and will try to update soon but I wanted to let y’all know Why I’ve been gone. Thinking about ya'll and writing. Hope you guys stay safe and stay inside if you can. I frequently reread the comments you guys have left me and I love you.


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